


Whisper Your Love

by eudaimonic



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Is Consumed, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Maggie Tozier is not, Sexual Situations, Sonia Kaspbrak is a bitch, THERE'S A BUTTERFLY GARDEN, Tags and Ratings may change, and pennywise can go fuck himself and stay out of my AU, check individual chapters for warnings!, cheerleader eddie, new kid richie, punk richie, richie plays guitar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eudaimonic/pseuds/eudaimonic
Summary: Richie Tozier noticed Eddie Kaspbrak right away, and all it took was a party and a near death experience for Eddie to notice him right back.--lmao im shit at summaries, basically: Richie is Derry High's brand new tall dark stranger and Eddie is a Soft Boi and they fall in love in a butterfly garden pls read thank





	1. The Ordinary Instant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a new kid, a party, a near-death experience, and a note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: i edited this, if y'all getting a notification then this isn't a new chapter i just fixed all of my many many mistakes.
> 
> a secondary title for this chapter is: Author's Over-Gratuitous Use of Foreshadowing. 
> 
> Or, I Swear I Didn't Make Eddie Sound Like A Manic Pixie Dream Boy On Purpose  
> next chap will be: But I Can't Promise That's Not Gonna Keep Happening

Some say life has a way of bringing you what you need, and that if you let it, happiness will come to you. Others take a more liberal approach, claim that to find happiness you must grab it by the balls and run with it... or something.

Richie Tozier has never been one to listen to what other people say, he prefers to think that the reality of life is somewhere in the middle; what you give is what you get, where you go is what you see, and what you find is what you take. Blah blah blah. So, when Richie's mom decides to leave his dad (about time) and move them out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Maine, Richie (ever the obedient son) grumbles unhappily the whole way there, but goes anyway. Despite his outward appearance and general attitude, Richie's always been a sort of "it is what you make of it" kind of guy, and so he decides, walking into Derry High on his first day of senior year, that he'll take whatever this shitstick of a school has to throw at him and he'll make it something worthwile. 

After all, when life gives you lemons...

"Make it your bitch." he mumbles, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder as he curves past a group of younger girls who standing by the obnoxious statue of a man with a handlebar moustache and are actively staring at him, doing nothing to hide their obvious gossipping. He grins back, tossing out his signature wink as the girl's titter and hide behind their hands, huddling in towards each other in that way all high school girls seem to do. 

Richie's early, he knows, because he's used to a longer walk to school in Cali and hadn't really accounted for the fact that Derry is half the size of his old town. Everything here seems to be half the size, _even the cheerleaders_ , he thinks, eyes lingering on a particularly short boy in a baby blue cheer uniform, crossing the lawn in front of the school gates towards another group of people - mostly girls - dressed in baby blue. The group scream loudly as he gets within hugging distance, and soon the boy is lost among a sea of ponytails and blue pleated skirts, and Richie is left scowling at the uneccesary amount of cheer they seem to exude.  _Even on a Monday._  

"Tiring, isn't it?" a voice calls from behind him, and Richie turns towards a girl with short auburn-red hair standing a short distance away from him, leant against the waist high brick wall surrounding the school's perimeter with an unlit cigarette in her hand. She smiles when Richie moves closer.

"I thought Cali cheerleaders were loud, but I guess nobody told me about small-town pride." Richie remarks. The girl tilts her head, a small smile playing at her lips as her eyes rove over Richie's form. A little closer up, Richie notices that the girl is taller than he expected - though, still not tall by his standards - and has freckles all over her face that she hasn't bothered to hide with any sort of makeup. 

The girl seems to make up her mind about something, because soon she's nodding and patting the space on the wall next to her. Richie joins her, already pulling his packet of tobacco from his back pocket and his papers from his front. "Pride is one thing Derry High has far too much of." The girl says, placing her cigarette in her mouth and lighting it with a clipper. "I'm Beverly Marsh." she says around a mouth of smoke, holding out her hand. 

Richie fumbles with the half-rolled cigarette he'd managed to accomplish as she spoke, shifting it to one hand so he can shake hers. "Richie Tozier."

"So, you're a roll-up kinda guy? Think you could teach me?" She asks offering her lighter once Richie is done. Richie takes it, quicly lighting up before passing it back without a word. He takes a moment to suck in a drag, breathing the smoke out through his teeth as he leans his head back, relishing in his first nicotine rush of the day. 

"You've never rolled before?" He asks. She shakes her head. "Not even a joint?" Another shake. "Huh. You Maine kids are weird, everyone knows how to roll in Cali." 

Beverly scoffs. "Okay, Mr. West Coast, can you teach this poor East Coast Kid your magical hipster ways?" She leans towards him as she says it, flicking the ceramic clown pin richie has on the collar of his favourite denim jacket.

Richie laughs enthusiastically, deciding that Bev would make a good friend to have around. "Sure, Marsh, sure."

He can see a sparkle of mischief in Bev's eyes, but just as she opens her mouth to say something else, a sudden burst of loud music begins playing from across the lawn. Every pair of eyes in the courtyard turns towards the grass, and Richie's eyes widen at the sight.  _Small town pride indeed._ The Cheerleaders Richie had clocked when he first entered school grounds were now in formation, a few already chanting along to the upbeat music as a crowd of boys in varsity jackets that had't been there before gather off to the side. As Richie watches, time itself seems to slow as he spots the short boy again, a pair of pompoms in hand as a taller male holds him high in the air by his foot. There's a smile plastered on his face, but unlike a few of the other cheerleaders, his doesn't seem forced. His eyes crinkle prettily as he raises his arms along with the now indescernible chanting, and Richie's eyes zero in on the way his lightly curled hair falls slightly into his face. 

With a jolt, Richie realises that the chanting has stopped, as well as the cheerleader's movements, as one of the jocks steps out from the huddle to address the watching crowd. He's in the middle of some speech about the football team, and how they're definitely going to win the East Coast championships this year, but all Richie can focus on is the boy in baby blue, still smiling, still perfectly balanced in the air. The speech must end, because there's a flurry of movement and the boy is gracefully dropping into the waiting arms of two cheerleaders below, and then stepping into the embrace of the jock - who must be the team captain - and promptly kisses him on the mouth.

Richie coughs and looks away, suddenly noticing that his cigarette has burned down to the filter and that he's in danger of adding to the litany of small burn scars on his fingertips if he doesn't smush it out against the wall. When Richie looks back up, the cheerleader is tucked under the arm of the jock, smiling at a taller boy with tight curly blonde hair and the most pristine collared shirt Richie has ever seen a person wear. 

A chuckle from beside him brings his attention away, and Richie turns to Bev, refusing to let his ears burn red for being caught staring. "His name is Eddie, Derry's resident Gay Angel, his boyfriend, Chris, is the football captain."

Richie grunts, chastising himself internally for being so transparent, "bit cliche that, isn't it?"

Bev grins knowingly, tilting her head again in that same considering way she did earlier. Richie has yet to decide if he likes that look. " It would be, if it weren't for the whole, _raging homosexuals_ thing." 

 

*

 

Richie learns pretty quickly that Derry is both exactly how he imagine small town life, and exactly the opposite of how he imagine it - all at the same time. It's a bit of a dream town, if he's being honest. White picket fences everywhere, nice mom's in pastel blouses smiling from their pristine lawns, your local pastor living two doors down, the butcher just after that. It has that 'everyone knows everyone' vibe that he'd thought would make him feel like an outsider but, surprisingly, he fits in quite nicely with Beverly Marsh, and her friend, Bill Denbrough. He's still the 'new kid' (one day Bev points out the last 'new kid', a stocky boy with sandy brown hair sitting beside Eddie Kaspbrak at lunch, and says that its kind of redundant to call him that since he moved there more than five years ago. "He's just called Ben now," she'd explained, "we all kind of forget that he hasn't always been here like the rest of us."). So what Richie is learning, and what he'd expected, is that everybody here is  _nice_ , but what he hadn't expected about that, is that people are  _actually nice -_ not just  _smile at you when you walk by and then talk shit about you at the book club_ nice. He'd been fully prepared to have to shove himself back in the closet when he came here, and had been pleasantly surprised to find out that that wasn't the case; he'd asked Bev all the way back on that first day how everyone felt about their star quarterback being gay with the cheerleaer, and Bev had looked at him like maybe she was reconsidering befriending him until he'd clarified that he is in fact  _very queer_ and was just concerned about how that was going to go down in the small-town life. 

Apparently, an incident a few years back had rocked the people of Derry, and since then the town had all collectively decided that it was more important to protect their own than hold hostilities based on personal preferences. And thus, the small-town life Richie found himself in was one of "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil".

And he was perfectly fine with that. 

So, Richie sunk into his new life with an ease he hadn't necessarily expected.

Another of those things he didn't expect was quite how often he'd see Eddie around town - which, in retrospect, he really should've been expecting since the town is pint-sized and there's only so many places to hide - but Eddie really was everywhere. In his classes, Richie finds himself distracted by the way Eddie's light brown hair curls over the collar of his baby blue cheer uniform (and occasionally the adorable white knit cardigan he wears over it). In the library during the same free period, Richie spots him reading quietly just a table over from where Richie is pretending to do homework but really listening to music. At lunch, Eddie's table is close enough that Richie can sometimes hear him laugh. Even outside of school, Richie catches Eddie leaving the greengrocers with a paper bag full of veg, he see's Eddie at the cinema eating popcorn with his friends, he see's Eddie in the street, walking with his headphones in and his nose in a book.

He doesn't mind, not really, but Richie knows his crush is as pointless as they come - and he really wishes Eddie wouldn't constantly be in his peripherals, because it doesnt help the fact that he's also constantly on his mind.

 _Pointless._ Richie thinks, two weeks into his first semester, as he's standing on the edge of what Bev's friend Bill described as  _The_ Rager (seriously, not  _A_ rager, _The_ rager), at Derry's quarry and listening to shitty pop music, watching as Eddie and his boyfriend dance in the middle of a mismatched group of seniors. Richie had never partied with such adiverse group in his life, even in a diverse place like California, Richie had only ever partied with people like him; the fuck-ups, the ones who listen to fast music with too much guitar and smoked cigarettes like they breathed through them. In Cali, Richie had never ran in the same circles as the cheerleders, or the jocks, or anyone else, so he never partied with them. When he agreed to go to The Rager with Bill and Bev, he hadn't accounted for the fact that Derry only has one social circle - and that is _Derry Residents_. 

"What do you think?" Bill asks - Bev is God knows where doing God knows what, Richie had discovered within five hours of knowing the girl that she's even more of a free spirit than he is. You cant hold her down or expect her to do anything, because she'll do exactly the opposite and then call you a loser for having any expectations at all. Bill's a cool guy, if a little quiet on the quiet side; he's told that the guy used to stutter pretty badly in middle-school, but that he'd grown out of it around 10th grade. He's tall (shorter than Richie, but go figure) with a floppy fringe just a shade less red than Bev's and slightly mysterious blue eyes that he likes to underline with a smudge of black. He's handsome, but he's not Richie's type. 

"I think I've never been to a party where literally the whole school was invited before." Richie replies sardonically, frowning down at his empty solo cup. He was told when he arrived that they only had so many, so he had to keep it if he wanted any more drinks. "Or rules."

"Derry isn't really big enough to be divided... I s-suppose it wasn't the same in California?"

"Being in a clique is a prerequisite to being a Californian. If you get to highschool and you haven't found your niche yet, you're pretty much a social periah." Bill snorts, and Richie sighs. "I'm going to get another drink."

He doesn't notice as he's walking over, too absorbed in not walking straight into anyone's flailing limbs, that Eddie and his boyfriend had migrated over to the 'bar' (an overlarge table filled with bottles of assorted alcohol and mixers), but he sure notices once he finally reaches the table. He's standing on the opposite side, and he feels his limbs freezing up slightly when he hears the conversation currently going on between the two and another boy, dressed similarly to Chris. They're arguing, or, at least, Chris and the unknown (jock?) are arguing. Eddie's just looking away dejectedly, like he doesn't quite know what to do. 

Richie places his cup on the table, reaching blindly for the bottle of Jack Daniels as his eyes flit from Eddie to where it rests, right by Eddie's arm. He feel's almost awkward, like if he gets too close he'll hurt Eddie - like Eddie is a butterfly and Richie is at risk of accidentally breaking one of his pretty wings if he so much as brushes him with his pinky. Eddie moves slightly, and Richie has more room to grab the Jack, so he does, snatching it up quickly and pouring himself a good amount before placing it back. Eddie is grabbing onto Chris's arm pleadingly, his brown eyes wide with concern.

"C'mon. baby, drop it, lets go dance again." He mumbles. Richie swallows, he's never heard Eddie's voice this up-close and its possibly the sweetest sound he's ever heard. He feels a little resentment when Chris just shakes Eddie's arm off, like it's nothing, and Eddie only sighs, eyes sweeping along the table awkwardly. His eyes rove straight over Richie - like they always do - but Richie's heart skips a beat anyhow. He jerkily reaches for the bottle of Coke to cover up the fact that he's been standing there way too long, but once again, Eddie doesn't seem to notice or care.

Other's have started to notice the argument now that Chris and the other guy have resorted to shoving, and Eddie tries once again to pull away his neanderthal of a boyfriend. He tugs on the back of his jacket, and groans, "Chris plea-" just then, the guy Chris is arguing with yells, shoving Chris harder than before, and Chris stumbles backwards into Eddie, sending the boy careening a few steps back before he loses balance on the uneven ground. Richie's heart skips another beat, another several beats, and curses whoever placed the stupid drinks table where they did because it is way too close to the edge of the cliff - the edge of the cliff that, with a surprised squeal, Eddie has just disappeared off of. 

There's a collective gasp from the crowd, someone yells Eddie's name, and Richie barely has time to take in the sound of a splash from down below, and Chris leaning over the edge of the cliff before he's throwing off his leather jacket onto the table and diving off the cliff after Eddie. 

 He briefly wonders if he'll ever be the type of person to consider the consequences of this actions before the icy water is hitting him full on and  _shit_ this is nothing like the water in california - which is  _warm_. Richie break's the surface with a gasp, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes and taking a moment to take in his surroundings. A few feet away he can hear Eddie thrashing in the water, his breaths gasping, and from above he can hear the distant screams of the entire senior class of Derry High. Richie ignores them, paddling over to Eddie and snaking an arm around his wasit.

"I've got you." He murmurs, hoping Eddie can hear him. Eddie's thrashing slows and his arm grips around Richie's neck like a lifeline. "I've got you, Eddie, c'mon we need to get to shore."

"Oh my God." Eddie yelps, and Richie can hear the fear in his voice. In the dark it's hard to tell where the shore is, but he can just make it out from the light of the moon and the several dosen flashlights from above that only just reach the quarry. Richie begins to swim in that direction, ignoring the chill of the water and the way Eddie seems to drag through the water. Eddie appears to be attempting to swim, but he's mostly just making a lot of noise and kicking Richie in the shin with his weird doggy paddling, and Richie is suddenly glad for his rash thinking when he realises that Eddie probably can't swim.  _He could have drowned_. 

They make it to the shore, and Eddie's one armed grip on richie's neck loosens as he sinks to the dusty ground, shaking all over. Beverly is right there when they make it, holding Richie's jacket out and Richie takes it without thinking, draping it over Eddie's quaking shoulders. The boy seems out of it, huddling into the material with eyes that are unfocused and teeth that are chattering so loud Richie's own jaw hurts - or maybe that's because his teeth are chattering too. 

"Oh my God is he okay?" Beverly asks.

"I'm not sure." He tells her, crouching back down in front of the smaller boy and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own breathing is loud in his ears, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and he's barely aware of the sounds of several pairs of feet heading towards them from above. "Eddie? Eddie are you alright?" Eddie doesn't respond and Richie does the only thing he can think of; he reaches out and places his hand on Eddie's neck, turning his head so they can make eye contact. His eyes are out of focus at first, but soon they seem to zero in on Richie and stay there. "Eddie?" He repeats, trying to get over the jolt of satisfaction he feels at  _finally_ being noticed by Eddie Kaspbrak. Now is not the time, nor the situation, to get sappy over a dumb crush.  _Eddie almsot died._ "Are you okay? Eddie?"

Eddie still doesn't answer, but his eyes are wide and clear. He's still shaking but his breathing is less eratic, his panic seemingly calming down. He's looking at Richie like he's some kind of saint, and Richie, inapproprately, takes this moment to really take in Eddie Kaspbrak up close. Short answer: he's beautiful. Long answer: his hair is plastered to his head, though the curls are still evident in the way the strands bunch and form, he has freckles over his nose and cheekbones, and those, coupled with his unnecessarily large doe eyes make him look youthful and pixie-like. His skin, though currently pale from the cold and near-death experience, is tanned and clear, and his lips look so soft and kissable as they are, wet parted slightly as Eddie pants through them. As Richie watches, enraptured, they widen, as if Eddie is about to speak but, before he can, Richie feels a hand on his chest, none-too gently pushing him aside.

"Eddie, oh my God, Eddie, I am so sorry, baby, so sorry!" Chris is saying. Richie gapes at him for a moment, but then he looks at Eddie and Eddie's eyes have followed his and any insults he has for the dumb jock fly straight out of his head. Eddie isn't looking at Chris, his  _boyfriend_ , he's looking at  _Richie_. His mouth is closed now, like whatever words he was going to say have lost their meaning, and Richie really wishes Chris could've been just a  _little_ slower navigating the path down to the water's edge. 

Chris is moving, and Richie thinks he's going to pull Eddie into a hug but then he just pushes Richie's jacket off of Eddie's shoulders and replaces it with his own - and thats when Eddie seems to snap out of it. His eyes flashing back to his boyfriend and his teeth chattering anew. Chris picks Richie's jacket up off the ground and hands it to him, and it's only by sheer force of will that Richie takes it without making a dumb quip that'll come across bitter - because he's bitter but it would be weird for him to come across like it. "Hey, thanks man, I'll take it from here." Chris mutters, barely even looking in Richie's direction.  _Typical_. 

Richie says nothing once again, and only thinks a little bit about how much he'd like to kick Chris' head in before he turns his gaze once more to Eddie, and finds, for the second time that night, Eddie looking back at him. Richie wishes Eddie would say something, anything at all, but Eddie only blinks, and then he's looking down, and Richie huffs, taking that for what it is and standing so that he can leave.

The walk home is a cold one, and Bev and Bill are only there half of the way to fill his thoughts with insults about Chris and the other neanderthal before they're each splitting off in the direction of their own houses, Bev with a hug and Bill with a simple wave. 

For the rest of the way home, Richie's thoughts are filled with every possible word Eddie could have said to him, had Chris not intervened. 

Eddie may not have gotten to speak to him, but he saw him. He looked at him. And in that moment, everything changed. 

 

*

 

The next school day is a doozy, Richie is approached by several people proclaiming him the new hero of Derry High (better than new kid of Derry High) and clapping him on the back. He see's Chris in the short break between second and third period, and recieves a bright smile that some may consider charming but Richie just considers asshole-ish, and another brief thanks.

_Yeah, you're welcome dickead. I only saved your ass from accidnetally drowning your boyfriend._

But he doesn't see Eddie. He's beginning to wonder if the boy is even in school - it would make sense for him to take a few days to recover after a fright like that - but then fifth period study hall rolls around and Richie spots Eddie at the library sitting in his usual place at the table one over from his, huddled in a pastel pink woollen jumper he's certain is probably non-regulation with his cheer uniform, with his nose, as always, buried in a book. It's a paperack this time, and white, but thats about all Richie can tell from such a distance away. 

Eddie glances up as Richie is watching, and their eyes catch. Eddie smiles, and Richie nods, trying not to die at the cute way Eddie's cheeks dimple on one side, because his smile is lopsided when he smiles with his mouth closed.  _Adorable_.

This happens a few times over the course of the hour long period, Richie will glance up from pretending to be doing his trig homework (as he always has) and Eddie will be looking right back (as has never happened before). Five minutes before the end of period bell is due to chime, Richie glances up and Eddie stands, Richie thinks for one heart-stopping second that Eddie is going to come over, but instead, Eddie briefly glances in his direction and then makes his way over to the librarian's desk. He returns a moment later with a piece of paper, that he folds carefully, four times. As Richie watches, Eddie reaches into his bag by his feet and pulls out a non-destinct black ballpoint pen and begins to scribble on the paper. He looks up when he's done, and Richie qucikly looks down and pretends he hasn't been staring. A tapping noise brings his attention back to Eddie, and Richie is once again shocked to see Eddie looking at him - this time with  _intent_. 

He's tapping the end of his capped pen onto the piece of paper, laying flat on the desk, and when he notices he has Richie's attention he picks it up and tucks it inbetween the pages of the book he'd been reading before fllicking it closed. He bites his lip as his gaze lingers on Richie once more, as if he's trying to say something, but he only drops his pen back into his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder, and with one last meaningful glance, he saunters over to the library doors just as the first bell chimes. 

Richie's spirits droop a little - he'd realy thought Eddie was going to finally talk to him. 

The tables around him are emptying, and Richie collects his stuff as students begin to filter out of the library. It's then that Richie notices it; Eddie's book is still there. Richie glances around, though he isn't sure why since he's not exactly doing anything wrong, and he rounds his own table to get to Eddie's vacated one. He'll never admit it but his heart is racing, and it only gets quicker when he picks up the abandoned book. 

 _The Year of Magical Thinking_ it reads, and up close Richie can see how loved the book is. There's a faint dog ear on the cover page, like it had been in and out of bags or accidentally dropped, and the spine is bent but not totally cracked. There's no plastic wrap covering, like the rest of the library books have, and Richie's suspicions that this is a personal copy are confirmed when he opens the front page and finds no library card.  _This is Eddie's book_. 

Suddenly, Richie remembers Eddie placing the folded up piece of paper he'd been scratching on into the book before he left, and the meaningful glances suddenly make sense. Eddie didn't leave the book by accident, he left it  _for Richie_. The late bell rings as Richie tips the book, allowing it to fall open naturally to the page with the paper inside it, and he keeps his thumb between the pages to keep it from closing back up as he reads the note Eddie left him.

 

 

> _butterfly garden, 16:00 - E_

Richie's grin feels like it may be splitting his face, "yes!" he whoops, making sure to keep his voice quiet as students for the next study hall period begin to filter into the library. He's going to be late, so he quickly slips the note back into the book, but as he does so, something catches his eye - a bright red mark on the page where Eddie had underlined something. Curious, Richie reads the words Eddie had highlighted, wondering if they were perhaps important as to why Eddie had left the note on this page, or if it had just been a coincidence. 

 

 

> _"Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant._ "

Richie thinks he might get it, the way he felt back at the quarry when Eddie first noticed him - like something in the air had changed - but he's not sure if that's what Eddie was thinking about when he underlined these words. The book looks old, well loved, and Eddie very well could have underlined these words a long time ago. Richie glances at his watch and realises hes nearly ten minutes late to his next period, and quickly drops the book into his backpack before he can waste any more time deliberating.

Whatever Eddie meant by it, he's pretty sure he agrees. Life does change in the ordinary instant. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first work in this fandom and i haven't written anything of note for any fandom in about 3 years so pls be kind. it's quite ooc bc im not nearly funy enough to encapsulate richie's comedy genius and im not quite sure how prevailant the other loser's will be in this but i got a general plan.  
> im also british and have no idea how to american but i'll try my best
> 
> pls giv feedbak by e
> 
> the book mentioned is The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, great book, highly reccomend if you wanna get existential.


	2. Wrapped In Your Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a secret garden, a conversation, and the beginnings of something deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the butterfly garden is based on a real one i visited last summer in Vienna called the Schmetterlinghaus (though not the history, just the aesthetics). it is absolutely gorgeous so im stealing it /// fight me Austrians. 
> 
> Chap title from You Belong To Me by Cat Pierce.
> 
> also, holy moly i didnt expect this to get so much attention tysm for all your lovely comments and kudos it really gives me the motivation to update this quicker than my old once a month procrastinating ass used to a few years back <333

From the outside, it just looks like an overlarge greenhouse but, the Butterfly House, is one of Derry's best kept hidden gems. Located right at the edge of town, the building is one of the first to have been built in Derry history, originally intended to be the home to a wealthy Lord who planned to live there with his wife and family. Disaster struck before his plans could come to fruition, however, as the wife unfortunately died before the house could be completed and, distraught, the Lord had finished the house, along with the addition of a beautiful butterfly garden in his wife's memory. He never officially moved into the completed house, but legend has it he visited the garden every day until his death many years later, leaving the property to be cared for by his only son. 

Now, the Butterfly House is rarely visited outside of the summer months, when tourism is low and the weather is dull, but it is kept alive by the Derry fund, targeted towards keeping the history of Derry alive - even if nobody is there to witness it. 

Richie can see why Eddie chose this place. Immediately upon stepping into the humid room, stripping his jacket, he is assaulted by the smell of freshly waterd flowers and the sound of water falling in the distance. An emerald blue butterfly swoops overhead, and several brown one's he doesn't know the name of are feeding on the chopped apples on a wooden pedestal half-hidden by a crop of shrubbery. There are elegant, moss covered statues hidden amongst the tall plants, and the gravel crunches underfoot as Richie wanders further down the laid out path. 

He can't see Eddie anywhere, but he doesn't dare call out the boy's name, too afraid to distrub the fragile peace of the place. Instead, Richie lets himself drift, listening to the low humming of the heating lamps and gentle pattering of the waterfall, becoming louder as he gets closer to the source. He rounds a bend, finger trailing idly over the words printed on a wooden information plaque, and then he spots him. Eddie is leaning over some shrubbery, placing a few pieces of chopped apple onto a stand like the one Richie had seen when he came in. A small white butterfly lands on his finger just as he's pulling away, and Eddie smiles softly as he raises it into the air, letting the insect flutter from his fingers and onto the pedestal. 

It truly is another one of those time-altering moments, and Richie feels all of his senses dull once again as he watches from afar. There's a glass wall behind Eddie, the fading sunlight filtering through and casting a halo-effect around Eddie's hair, and Eddie's cheer uniform is discarded in preference for some lightwash skinny blue jeans and a green apron over the pink sweater he had been wearing in the library. 

He looks angelic. 

Richie must make a noise then, because Eddie's head suddenly whips in his direction, his mouth falling into an 'o' of shock. Richie feels like he's intruding, which is ridiculous because Eddie  _asked him to come_. But for one dreadful moment Richie honestly feels like Eddie might ask him what he's doing there, might ask him to leave, but then he just smiles and turns fully in Richie's direction, placing his hands in the pockets of his apron. 

"Richie, you came." He says, the words almost songlike as they fall delicately off his tongue and into the air. The white butterfly takes off suddenly, delicate wings ever so graceful as it flutters over Eddie's head and disappears into the leaves. 

"You know my name?" Richie grunts, voice coming out more hourse than he'd intended to do. He coughs, clearing his throat and attempts to hide behind his scrunched fist as Eddie chuckles.

"Of course I know your name, why wouldn't I?" Eddie chimes, slowly moving one foot in front of the other until they're in proper conversational distance of each other. 

"Uh." Richie falters. "Because we've never spoken to each other before right now?"

He realises too late that the words come off a little bitter, and he regrets them a moment later when Eddie winces slightly, eyes wide and sad like Eddie wishes the words weren't true. The boy turns away slightly, reaching up one soft looking hand to rub bashfully at the back of his head, almost as soon as his hand touches his hair, Eddie pulls it away, grimacing and wiping it on his apron. "Apple juice." he murmurs, looking down at his apron instead of at Richie. "And, uh, you're right, but that's why I invited you here, I wanted to speak to you."

Richie nods, because he'd figured as much on the walk over there. Agonising over every possibility, until ultimately coming to the conclusion that Eddie probably only wants to thank him for saving his life - he's already resigned himself to the fact that this will be the only conversation the two will ever have and after this Eddie will go on with his perfect life and Richie will continue being the new kid until he graduates. "To thank me?" He asks, because saying the rest is just... desperate and weird. He scuffs the toe of his boot into the gravel absently, pursing his lips as the thought comes to mind. He's desperate, so desperate, for this to not be the only time they ever talk. 

"Yes." Eddie agrees, finally looking up at him with an expression so earnest Richie almost has to look away with the intenstiy of it. "And-"

"And?" Richie repeats, startled.  _There's an 'and'?_ _!_

Eddie smiles. "Yes,  _and_." he emphasises, raising his eyebrows playfully and reprimanding Richie for interrupting. "I was hoping maybe we could be friends... maybe..."

And, honestly? Richie just gapes, he gapes because Eddie - Eddie Kaspbrak, literal angel on earth, walking mother's wet dream, wants to be friends with  _him_. Richie must've drowned in that quarry, probably hit his head on the rock on the way down and sunk because there's no way. Eddie has friends, Eddie has friends who are just like him, and he has a boyfriend who, admittedly, is a bit of an idiot, but a boyfriend nonetheless, who loves him. Why does he want to be friends with Richie? Unless... unless this is some sort of payment - like in the Titanic, except not because they end up together, and if Richie is Jack in that analogy then he dies in the end and he isn't about that life. So more like Clueless? Does Eddie plan to take Richie under his wing under some misguided sense of duty and attempt to  _straighten him out_ _?!_ Richie's mind flashes back to the boy he see's Eddie hanging out with the most, the one with the harshly pressed collared shirts and -  _shudders_ \- chinos. No. Richie can't do that. 

But then, would Eddie do that? He doesn't seem like the type to enforce some sort of change on Richie. So maybe it's not like any movie, maybe it's just straight up honest to God gratitude - but that only hurts more. Richie doesn't want Eddie's friendship because he feels like he owes him, that's almsot worse than not having Eddie's friendship at all. "You don't have to be friends with me just because I saved your life - I'm a good swimmer, and it's what anyone else would've done, you don't owe me for being a decent human being."

Eddie's eyes widen and his lips press together in a tight thin line, shaking his head all at once. "That's not what- look, I'm thankful but I  _know_ I don't owe you, I just, when you pulled me out of the water I felt like you were someone worth knowing, and I want to know you, I want to be your friend... i-if you want that too." It goes quiet for a moment, the only sound the running water up ahead and the steady hum of the overhead lamps. Their eyes don't leave each other's the whole time, Eddie's still impossibly wide and God knows what kind of expression Richie is wearing underneath his gaudy glasses. Then, Eddie shuffles, the sounds of his sneakers disturbing the gravel breaking the silence. "Would you?" he asks, almost a whisper. "Be my friend?"

Richie thinks it over for a moment, deciding that even if Eddie isn't being entirely honest, he has no reason to use Richie - no reason to stand there and  _beg_ a second time. So Richie smiles.

And Richie nods.

 

*

 

"This is my favourite place to read." Eddie is saying, one leg tucked up to his chest on the stone bench they're sharing, his other dangling to the side, skimming the gravel. His chin is resting on his knee, his apron discarded on the bench behind him. "When I'm not working - or busy - I'm usually here anyway, I like the quiet."

It had been a few hours, way past the closing time Richie had noticed on the board outside when he came in, but Eddie had assured him that they can stay as long as they like as long as Eddie locks up behind them. They'd migrated to the little tunnel below the synthetic waterfall quite some time ago, and hadn't stopped talking ever since. 

With every little thing Richie learns about Eddie, he just finds himself more and more intrigued by the boy. He's obsessed with finding out all of the little details, all of the intricacies that make Eddie Kaspbrak,  _Eddie_ , and he'd been delighted when Eddie had returned all of his strange and sometimes intrsuvie questions - throwing a few of his own in the mix. For the first time in a while, Richie feels like he's having a conversation with someone who genuinely cares about what he's saying - even when he goes on a twety minute long tirade about the different uses of potatoes, or tells one of his dumb jokes he used to get told off for near constantly. Eddie even  _laughs_. 

It's refreshing. 

"It's nice," Richie comments, leaning his head against the manufacutred stone wall behind them. Opposite from them, built into the wall, is a glass case incubator filled with rows of chrysalises, all of them different shapes, sizes and colours. One of them, a small green one in the top right corner, is beginning to hatch, the little legs of the butterfly just beginning to poke out of a small tear at the bottom. "calming." He continues, watching the butterfly's head poke out next. 

Eddie follows his gaze, regarding the hatchling with a wistful look. "They don't all make it." He says after a short moment of companionable silence. Richie hums, frowning. "The hatchlings." Eddie explains. "Sometimes they get hurt coming out, their wings are broken or deformed, they get stuck and starve... or they just don't come out at all."

Richie looks away from the incubator, watching Eddie instead. "That's sad."

"That's life." Eddie says wryly, returning Richie's gaze. 

Richie rolls his eyes, scoffing, "alright Mr. Pessimistic, life isn't all bad - just look at this place!" Richie gestures with his hands, throwing them wide and raising his eyebrows imploringly. Eddie shifts uncomfortably, pursing his lips as he tilts his head back and to the side, eyes lingering somewhere on the ceiling, then he sighs. 

"What did you think when you moved here, Richie?" He asks, and his voice has a heaviness to it suddenly, a heaviness that Richie can't decipher. 

"Are you kidding? This place is like some kind of fairytale village and nuclear town all rolled into some gaint ball of pleasantness."

Eddie scoffs, looking uncomfrotable. "Derry isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know? You just haven't been here long enough to know that yet."

For the first time, Richie see's Eddie, not as some otherwordly being, but as a boy. A boy who is looking at him like he wants Richie to understand something, something Richie just can't see. It's true, Richie hasn't been here that long, but from what he's seen, Derry is an enigma. There's a sense of community here that is unrivalled, and Richie likes that. "What do you mean?" He asks. 

Eddie sighs again, this time a little agitatedly. "Derry wasn't always like this... a few years back, a boy a few years older than us came out - it was a big thing, you know? Nobody had ever really been  _gay_ in Derry before, at least not openly. It had the town up in arms, half of the town wanted to ignore it was even a thing, and the other half wanted to rejoice, and a few people... a few people didn't like it at all. Adrian, that was his name, he found a boyfriend, Don, and then it became a real problem - Don was the preacher's son. Well, those people that didn't like it before, really didn't like it now... they attacked them." Richie feels his breath freeze in his lungs, watching the emotions flit across Eddie's face. "Adrian was killed, Don badly injured." He sniffs a little, and finally looks at Richie. "What you see in Derry, it isn't acceptance, it's ignorance. You think the whole town is fine with Chris and I's relationship? They aren't, they just ignore it, because nobody wants another case like Adrian Mellon. It's the shame of Derry history, the guys who did it got put in Juniper Hill - that's a mental asylum up North - and now nobody ever talks about it anymore."

Richie is silent, can't find the words to say to that. He'd heard of 'an incident' from Bev, but she hadn't gone into any detail and Richie, uncaring, hadn't asked. He realises his mistake now, watching Eddie watching him - distressed. "I had no idea..." Richie whispers, shaking his head, "it's awful."

"It's Derry." Eddie says. "The people here hide thier faults under a layer of dust, they ignore anything they don't like because it's easier than admitting that we're just as fucked as the rest of the world."

It's the first time Richie hears Eddie swear.

 

*

 

Riche thinks, later, that Eddie might have been trying to tell him something else when he talked about Adrian Mellon. 

But as Richie is wont to do, he doesn't ask. 

Because, as loathe as he is to admit it, Richie is a little afraid to shatter any other images he has of Derry. He's already beginning to see the little cracks in the town's exterior, and he fears the day he'll begin to see those cracks in the people too. See the cracks in Eddie. 

Eddie is an entirely different person outside of school, hidden away in his little garden, where Richie finds himself most days when 16:00 rolls around, watching Eddie look after the plants and the butterflies, talking about anything and everything that comes to their minds. Eddie seems particularly interested in Richie's life before Derry, so Richie tells him about all of the crazy things he and his group of friends got up to, all of the beach parties and ragers and that time Richie passed out because he wore his leather jacket in 80F weather, and in return Richie learns that Eddie's dad died when he was five, and he's planning on going to Harvard next fall, and he has a 4.0 GPA. Eddie's friends are Stan, Ben and sometimes Mike - though Mike is more Chris' friend becasue they're on the football team together. 

They don't talk much inside of school, and Richie doesn't ask why because he kind of gets it - Eddie is always with Chris, and Richie doesn't want to be around Chris anyway. It doesn't really bother Richie, that their friendship seems to be some sort of secret, because even though he barely gets to see Eddie at school, Richie gets to bask in the boy's laughter outside, any time he wants. They go to the butterfly garden, and hang out by the waterfall, or they go to Richie's house and eat his mom's spaghetti - Richie's gives Eddie the nickname 'Eddie Spaghetti' when Richie manages to make him laugh so hard that spaghetti sauce comes out of his nose, which Eddie rolls his eyes at and continuously tells him not to call him that.

Richie knows he likes it though, he can tell by the way Eddie hides a smile behind his sweaterpaws. Maggie takes an instant liking to Eddie, offering to make him whatever he wants every time he comes over and always smiling at Richie in a way thats all too knowing. 

They're sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, Richie munching on a bowl of lucky charms and his mother meticulously peeling the filament off a tangerine, when she suddenly stops just to stare at him. Richie's movements halt, his spoon halfway to his open mouth, and their eyes meet. Blue on blue. He knows that whatever comes next can't be good, and he's right.

"Richard, I've been thinking." she says, her voice stern. Richie drops his spoon back into his bowl, eyeing her warily.

"Yes, mom?"

"I want you and Eddie to leave the door open when you're _studying_ from now on." Maggie smirks, putting emphasis on the word 'studying'. Richie winces and groans.

"Mom, it's not like that!" He pleads. "Eddie and I are just friends."

Maggie scoffs, beginning to pick apart the individual pieces of her tangerine. Richie's senses get overwhelmed with the scent of citrus. "Please, Richie, I see the way you look at that boy - and I only want you to be sensible!"

Richie groans again, placing his hands flat on the table and bringing his forehead down onto them - hard, twice. "Mom, please, it's too early for the talk. I'm eighteen, shouldn't you have said this a few years ago?!"

Maggie clears her throat. "Yes, well, I was a little bit preoccupied a few years ago." Richie feels guilty all of a sudden, remembering his mother's struggles with alcoholism due, in part, to his shitty dad. He hadn't wanted her to get help, afraid that it would shame their family. The best day of Richie's life was the day his mother told Wentworth Tozier to go fuck himself and threw her wedding ring in his face. She'd been going to AA ever since, and shortly thereafter they'd moved to Derry to start fresh. 

Richie smiles at her reassuringly, reaching over to wrap his hand around the one she wasn't using to place a piece of tangerine between her lips. Richie recognises the Tozier trick of deflection for what it is. "I'm proud of you mom." He says, meaning every word. 

Maggie smiles softly at him, and then pulls her hand away. "Really, though, when are you going to ask Eddie out? I'd love to have him as a son in law, he's such a sweet boy!"

Richie fake screams, "mom!" as Maggie chuckles, popping another tangerine segment in her mouth, a twinkle in her blue eyes. Richie picks up his nearly empty cereal bowl, dumping whats left before leaving the dish in the sink for his mom to clean - as punishment. "I'm going now!"

"Ask him out!" She yells after him.

 

*

 

"You should ask him out." Bev says at lunch, slamming her bottle of water down on the table to grab Richie's attention, which, for the sixth time that lunch period and six millionth time that month, had strayed over to Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie splutters, "Bev!" he yelps, "Jesus, are you and my mother in kahoots or something?"

"Y-your mother knows E-Eddie?" Bill asks, breaking the non-verbal vow of silence Richie is sure the boy probably made at some point. He honestly doesn't know how Bill and Bev got on before he came along to tamper all of Bev's energy. Richie stops a moment to take in Bill's words, and then realises his mistake. 

"Uh." Bev's eyes are glinting accusingly, her painted finger pointed straight at him like a bright red and slightly chipped dagger.  _Spill_ it says. And with a sigh, Richie does. "Yeah, I guess we're kind of friends..?"

Bev gawks, and Richie thinks Bill's eyebrow might twitch a little, but then he just goes back to sipping at his waterbottle casually, the only thing betraying his interest are his eyes, trained on Richie, like a hawk. "You what?!" Bev shrieks, Richie hushes her, glancing around to make sure nobody is staring. "Since when?"

"Since I saved his life at the quarry... we've been talking."

"At y-your house." Bill clarifies. Richie nods. The two redheads stare at him for a moment, and Richie feels a little awkward under their scrutiny, then, "y-you should ask him out." 

Bev lets out a little "hah!" at that, and Richie groans. "Not you too, Big Bill! We're just friends - and, besides, Eddie has a boyfriend!"

"So?" Bev scoffs, rolling her eyes. Richie scowls at her, and then at Bill who shrugs noncommitally. 

" _So_ ," he emphasises, "I can't just ask him out if he's already taken!"

Bev rolls her eyes again, like he's stupid - which, uh? Rude. - and then leans forward. "Sure you can, take a little initiative! Woo the guy! Pull an Avril Lavigne on him and push Chris into a portapotty and declar yourself Eddie's new boyfriend." Richie snorts, as Bev begins humming the tune to Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, he shoves her shoulder playfully, pursing his lips to try and stave off an amused smile. 

"Ha Ha, Beverly, you're hilarious! Now can I go back to pining in silence?" Bev snorts, waving her hand as if to say "go ahead", and Bill is already once again not giving a single shit. Richie turns to continue his longing stare-athon in Eddie's direction, and freezes when he see's Eddie looking back at him. For a moment, he wonders if Eddie could hear their conversation before dismissing the thought entirely because, if he can't hear Eddie's then Eddie certainly can't hear theirs. Then he wonders at how long Eddie could've been looking at him without him noticing, and his heart stutters in his chest, his breaths slowing as a warm feeling fills his tummy. 

He hears Beverly whistle lowly across the table, but pays no mind as Eddie smiles shyly at him, before turning away to rejoin whatever conversation he was having with Stan. Stan's gaze lingers for a moment on Richie, quizical, before he too looks away. Richie turns back to Bev, a huge wide-eyed grin plastered all over her smug face. Even Bill looks a little impressed. "You weren't lying." She stage whispers, and Richie feels a little offended.

"Why would I even lie about that?" He asks, indignantly.

Bev shrugs. "I don't know, to seem cool?"

"Nobody even knows we talk except you guys and my mom."

Bev shrugs again, and they fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the occasional crunching of Bill biting into his apple that he'd pulled from seemingly nowhere. Richie thinks he's gotten away scot free, but then Beverly has to open her big mouth _again_ , "I still think you should ask him out." Richie glares at her, and then throws his scrunched up napkin at Bill when the stoic boy agrees with a silent nod.

 

*

 

Richie is walking home when he hears the sound of a pair of feet rushing up the pavement behind him, he turns just in time to see Eddie come to a helt beside him, and grins when Eddie slips his small hand around Richie's wrist, keeping him in place. "Hey." He breathes, breathless from his run. 

"Hi." Richie greets, pulling the buds of his headphones out of his ears and pausing his music. "I was just on my way home, you wanna join? Maggie's been asking after you."

Eddie smiles happily. "Tell Maggie I said Hi? But, uh, no, I was wondering actually if you wanted to come to mine for once? My mom's not home 'til late tonight so I thought we could hangout there for a change."

Richie agrees immediately, because he's not too shy to admit he'd been curious to know what Eddie's room looks like. If it'll be as soft and cute as Eddie, or plain, or messy. He can't imagine it'll be messy, nothing about Eddie screams messy, but you never know. 

There's something intimate about being invited into someone's bedroom for the first time - even in the most non-sexual setting, where it's just two friends hanging out, one of them with a long-term boyfriend, bordering on childhood sweetheart, and the other with the most hopeless of crushes. It's like being invited to a front row seat to someone's soul; you get to see the essence of them, thier most private place. Where they sleep at night and wake up in the mornings, where they dress, where they do their homework and where they cry. 

Richie understands this intrinsically when he steps into Eddie's room, he feels like Neil Armstrong taking his first steps on the moon as his eyes take it all in. Ultimately, it's just a room - obviously belonging to a teenaged boy - but also obviously belonging to  _Eddie_. Eddie's house had once been a bungalow, it seems, and Eddie explains that his room was renovated from the attic when he was born. The floor is wooden, sandy in colour, and is goes nicely with the white painted walls. His bedsheets are a pristine white that must be a nightmare to clean, and perfectly made, one fluffy looking pale purple pillow right in the center. Oposite the bed, is a railing with several coats and jackets hung up in order from heaviest to lightest, and next to that is a door, presumably leading to an ensuite, a small table with a record player perched on it on the other side, a cork board with a calendar and a few pictures above that. Next to the bed, by the bannister, is a wardrobe, the matching dresser at the foot of the bed. On the other side of the room, right as you make it to the top of the stairs, are two large windows, a floor length mirror, and a clean looking desk with drawers. 

Eddie sits delicately on the made bed as Richie stands in the centre of the room, taking it all in; from the daisy lights wrapped around the metal bedframe to the scented candles on top of the dresser. The room is clean, ordered, and Richie can see Eddie in it - reading a book in bed or writing at his desk. 

"It's very you." He comments, moving closer to the corkboard so he can look at the pictures. There's one of Eddie and Stan, adorably young, and a newer one including Ben. There's a picture of Eddie and Chris, and next to it a picture of all four of them with Mike Hanlon, Eddie in his cheer uniform and lying across their arms, grinning. 

"I hope that's a good thing?" Eddie says, and when Richie glances at him, he's biting his lip shyly. 

Richie smiles softly, unthinkingly taking the two steps it takes to reach him and pulling his lip out from between his teeth with his thumb. "Always." he murmurs. Eddie doesn't move until Richie moves his thumb away, looking down and trying not to feel guilty.  _Boyfriend! Childhood sweethearts! Chris!_ Richie turns away, because he can't take the way Eddie is looking at him - he doesn't know what it means but it feels like  _something_ and Richie can't take it if it turns out to be nothing.

"Rich." Eddie whispers, reaching his hand out to hold gently onto Richie's. "Richie, I have a boyfriend." 

Richie nods, "I know, I, uh, I should go."

"You don't have to." Eddie says, pleads, and Richie gives in, turning back and sinking down onto the bed when Eddie tugs at his fingers. They're still holding hands, sitting side by side, wrinkling Eddie's pristine sheets. "I... I feel it too, you know?"

"You do?" He asks, hopeful.

Eddie nods, his eyes drooping to stare at Richie's lips. "There's something about you... about this... that I, I just, I can't re-" He cuts himself off, pressing his lips to Richie's with a sigh. Richie gasps, hands coming up to cup Eddie's face as the smaller boy presses into him, leaning into Richie's body. He feels Eddie's hands on his neck, his thumbs rubbing circles into the skin behind his ears and Richie opens his mouth, taking charge of the kiss and pressing his tongue between Eddie's lightly parted lips, pushing them further apart and devouring Eddie's mouth with his own. 

His mind is racing, as Eddie climbs over him, knees on either side of Richie's hips as they fall further backwards onto the bed and fall further into their kiss. He feels dizzy, and Eddie must feel it too as he pulls back slightly, breath panting over Richie's face. Richie's opens his eyes, and see's Eddie looking right back at him. Their eyes meet, and then they're kissing again, breathless, reeling. 

 

*

 

When Richie wakes up the next morning, he's lying fully clothed on top of Eddie's covers, facing out into the room. He can feel Eddie's weight behid him, dipping the bed slightly, but their only point of contact is the singular finger Eddie is using to draw shapes and patterns between Richie's shoulder blades. Richie sighs contently, shifting further into Eddie's touch. He hears Eddie chuckle breathily, and then a light kiss is pressed to his clothed back. "You should go..." Eddie whispers, "before my mom comes up here and starts yelling at me to get ready."

Richie laughs out a groan. "You and your crazy mom." They'd talked for a while last night, once they'd finally pulled away from each other. After a minor freak out - Richie's, not Eddie's - and some discussion, they'd agreed to roll with whatever comes, and Richie had spent the night, innocently, after falling asleep to the sound of Eddie telling him a story about his mom from his childhood. Richie rolls over, wrapping Eddie up in his arms and kissing all over his face, Eddie chuckles, weakly attempting to push Richie away. "M'sorry for falling asleep." Richie says, stroking a hand through Eddie's slightly greasy curls. 

Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "S'fine, you looked peaceful."

"Your bed is very comfy." Richie agrees. Eddie snorts.

"Yeah, just don't go telling people that." The smaller boy sits up, and Richie notices he must have changed, sometime while he was sleeping, into a pair of red short shorts and a large soft cotton t-shirt with a hole in the collar. There's a faded logo on the front of the shirt, but Richie doesn't have his glasses on so he can't make it out. 

"What?" Richie teases, sitting up too and reaching for the glasses folded neatly on the dresser. "Your boyfriend doesn't think so?" There's a pause, where Richie expects Eddie to laugh or hit him lightly for being crude, but Eddie just freezes in the process of pulling out a clean uniform from his wardrobe, his back to Richie. Richie frowns. "Eds?"

Eddie mumbles something, and then goes back to rumaging through his closet. "What? I don't speak mumble-ese." Richie jokes.

Eddie turns to him then, his cheeks flushed, "I said he wouldn't know." He repeats, voice unsteady. 

Richie's brain short circuits, "are you saying you're-"

"A virgin, yes." Eddie says, holding his uniform to his chest like a shield. He bites his lip. Richie stands up from the bed, placing his hands around Eddie's hips and sighing. 

"I'm sorry, Eds. I just assumed - you've been with him for so long..." He apologises. "It's okay to be a virgin, you know?"

"I know that!" Eddie snaps, eyes flashing, then he deflates, leaning his head on Richie's shoulder in defeat. "I just - everyone always assumes, and Chris... well let's just say that it's not exactly his fault we havent, uh, done  _it_."

Richie doesn't quite know what to say in this situation, he'd assumed so much about Eddie and now? Now he's seeing a whole new side - and that's not to say this changes his opinion of Eddie in any way, just maybe he's realising that if this assumption is wrong, what other assumptions could he be wrong about? "Does he pressure you?" Richie asks, a protective lilt to his voice. 

Eddie shakes his head, still buried in the material of Richie's shirt. "Not in a bad way... he asks a lot, but he drops it if I tell him to."

Richie nods. Point to Chris then. "Good."

"I guess..." Then Eddie trails off. Richie pulls away, so he can look Eddie in the eye. 

"What?"

"I mean... I guess you're... not?" Eddie asks, unsure. "A virgin, that is. You're not one?"

Richie shakes his head, "I'm not, no."

"Oh."

"Is that bad?"

Eddie's eyes go wide, his head shakes. "No! Of course it's not bad, just, it's nice to know." 

Richie grins, and nods his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips - hard, but chaste. "It means nothing." He assures, pressing another long kiss to Eddie's lips when he tilts his head to ask for one. "I promise."

"Mmm, sure, just keep kissing me."

Richie chuckles. "As you wish."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i wasn't going to make them kiss yet but i got ahead of myself so there u go. i also didn't intend for these chapters to be so long - do y'all like that? or should i make them shorter?
> 
> also @ me continuing my theme of overabundant foreshadowing  
> if you think you spot any, lmk, i'd love to hear some theories as to where you think this may be going


	3. Can't Take My Eyes Off You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two steps back, three steps forward, five steps back - oh, and a dive bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap title from The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice
> 
> im procrastinating doing a 5,000 word essay by writing a 5,000 (or not quite) word chapter instead. you're welcome. also thank you again for all the comments and kudos - i have a tumblr if you wanna message me there, it isn't really IT related (lol its not really anything related) but i will answer any and all asks recieved: saddedly.tumblr.com
> 
> (psst. peep the change in chapter numbers, i've finally hashed out a proper plan for this)

Weeks pass with little change, Eddie still continues to pretend Richie doesn't exist at school, and Richie pretends like it doesn't really bother him when Chris throws an arm around Eddie's shoulder at lunch, or in the halls, or everywhere. Only now, in the comfort of their own privacy, Richie and Eddie are  _more_. They're RichieandEddie. They talked about it once, and Richie gets it that Eddie needs a little time to figure out how to break it off with a guy he's been dating for three years and known all his life, but it's been  _two weeks_ and the only thing that's changed is that Richie got a job - so now they see each other even less than before.

The first match of the season is coming up, and Eddie is busier and busier with cheer practice, and Richie is trying to save up enough cash for a motorbike - because he's sick of walking to school - so now they only really get to see each other on the rare occasion that Richie isnt working at the record store on Main St and can visit Eddie at the Garden, or at night when Richie sneaks through Eddie's window via the garage roof and they curl up in bed, making out until one or both of them fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. 

Having a secret relationship is tiring.

And Richie says so when he joins Bev and Bill at their lunch table one wednesday, dropping his lunchbag onto the scratched up plastic with little finesse. Bill just shrugs, but he lowers his textbook nonetheless and joins the conversation - in a way that someone who never speaks can join a conversation. Beverly pouts, patting his shoulder consolingly, "I'm sure they'll break up soon." Richie turns to look over his shoulder at the aforemention 'they' and knows Bev and Bill are craning their necks to see over Richie's shoulder too. Chris is telling some story to Mike, one arm flung over Eddie's shoulder as the other gesticulates something in the air wildly. He seem's to be miming some sort of throw, and Richie figures they're talking about football. Eddie is smiling softly at Mike, laughing when the other boy speaks, then he tucks his head into Chris' neck, Chris arm rubbing gently over the soft texture of Eddie's cardigan. 

Richie knows it's soft, because he'd felt it that morning before Eddie had shoved him out of his window and onto his garage roof, kissing him goodbye through the frame. 

"W-what if he's playing you?" Bill says quietly, Richie hears a gentle thud, followed by a muffled 'ow', before he turns away from the sight of Eddie and his boyfriend with a sigh. 

"I've thought about that, but I think he's scared - I can't tell of what, though."

Bev hums, munching into a carrot stick which she then points at Richie. "That would make sense actually, from what I know of Eddie, he's always been a perfectionist." She turns to Bill. "Remember last year?" Bill nods noncomitally.

"Yeah, it was awful." He says, tone flat. Richie can't tell for a moment if he's being serious, or if he'd suddenly developed some form of elaborate deadpan humour. 

"What was last year?" He asks eventually, eyes flickering between the two. Bill blinks at him ominously, and then reopens his textbook and looks away. Richie turns to Bev.

"Eddie and Chris had a fight - it was just before they came out as a couple officially, though they'd been dating for a while - obviously." She takes another dramatic bite of her carrot. "It had something to do with Chris' brother, and how Eddie didn't wanna come out because of what happened to him. But Chris wanted to and, eventually, Eddie gave in because he couldn't stand to see Chris upset with him. I remember they didn't talk for weeks, which was so weird for them because they'd been attached at the hip since  _birth_ or something... and Eddie was so down he almost quit cheerleading."

"Wait! Chris has a brother? I didn't know this? What happened to him to cause them to argue?"

Beverly frowns. "Yeah, didn't I tell you about this? His brother is Don Hagarty - he's a few years older than us, real cool guy. Three years ago he was dating this boy, Adrian, and they were attacked on their way home from a date. Adrian was thrown over the kissing bridge and Don beaten half to death." Richie feels like his breathing has stopped. Bev scrunches her nose and waves a hand dismissively. "I swear I told you about this? Anyway, Don survived it, but Adrian didn't. He moved away, like, a few months after, to New York or something - Chris idolises him."

Richie doesn't care about Chris. Richie cares about Eddie, and why - when Eddie was telling Richie this story - he neglected to mention that one of the victims just happened to be the  _brother_ of his boyfriend. His childhood best friend.  _Attached at the hip_ Beverly had said, Eddie must've known Don personally, it wasn't so much of a stretch to think that he must have known the older brother of his best friend? Especially if Chris and Don were as close as Beverly implies. Seeing him attacked, his boyfriend killed, it must have been  _traumatic_ for them both. 

And now? Richie is asking Eddie to find a nice way to break Chris' heart - after they've  _been through_ something together, after all thier history and shared trauma. No wonder Eddie was finding it hard. 

Strangely, Richie didn't feel guilty about that, in fact, it reassured him. He just wonders why Eddie didn't explain why this is so hard for him - he'd have understood. Feeling better, Richie tunes back into the conversation Bev seems to have continued without noticing that he was no longer paying attention. She'd moved on from Chris and Don, and was now talking about some bar in town that she wants Richie to check out. 

"- I mean, you just  _have_ to, right Bill?" 

Bill nods. "Right."

Bev grins. "Sometimes I play there, not on Fridays and Saturdays becasue they get real bands to play on those days, but on Thursdays they let me up on stage and even let me keep the tips I get sometimes. It's great fun - oh!" She snaps her fingers suddenly, and Richie feels a bout of conversational whiplash coming on. "You should totally play with me sometime! You play right? I can see the callouses on your fingers" Richie nods, hesitantly, unsure if he should be feeding into whatever fantasy Beverly has cooking in her brain. "Awesome! You can totally sing too, right? I bet you can. You should sing with me next Thursday - I'd say tomorrow but..."

Richie zones out again, humming occasionally, but letting his thoughts drift elsewhere. 

Namely, Eddie Kaspbrak, and this ever growing mystery Derry seems to be turning out to be.  

 

*

 

Richie doesn't let on that he knows about Don Hagarty to Eddie, mainly because he hasn't been able to see him much in the week since finding out. They hung out one Saturday at the record store, Eddie doing homework in the break room with the door open so they can talk through it, but by the time Richie's morning shift had ended, Eddie'd had to rush off to cheer practice. And then all of the next week, Richie had agreed to practice a few songs with Beverly for thier performance on Thursday night, so he couldn't meet with Eddie in the Butterfly Garden like he usually would.

They'd caught a few moments in school, sneaking away from study hall ten minutes early to make out in the drama closet, suitably dubbed 'Narnia' by the department. They'd almost been caught too, and would have had the closet not been so messy as to be comparable to the Room of Hidden Things from Harry Potter. Richie would like that comparison better, if it weren't for the fact that their relationship happened to be one of those 'hidden things'. Nevertheless, they'd managed to hide themselves among a pile of boxes filled with wigs and shoes until the students, who were looking for Joseph's technicolour dream coat, left. 

Eddie had gotten a little bit more comofortable talking to Richie in school too, though not nearly as comfortable as Richie would like, and not nearly comfortable enough for anyone to even suspect they were friends let alone... whatever they were. 

Which is another thing, Richie and Eddie haven't had  _that_ conversation yet, mainly due to the fact that Eddie already has a boyfriend, and Richie is somewhat scared that Eddie would tell Richie that he's only a bit on the side for him - not that he really thinks thats what Eddie see's him as, but the fear persists all the same. So, Richie is in a bit of slump over what exactly to call Eddie - they aren't boyfriends,  _not yet_ , and he's hesitant to call them  _lovers_ because he really isn't ready for that implication just yet, but _side-bit_ is a little too crass consdiering they haven't even slept together. 

He distracts himself from the confusion by practicing with Beverly in her aunt's basement; it turns out that Beverly is quite the skilled musician - she can play practically any instrument you throw at her to a passable degree - and their voices mesh well together, much to her delight. By the time Thursday rolls around, they've already got a mini setlist planned out - its mostly Bev singing, but there are a few songs that Richie will have to step up for because, in Bev's words, only a man can sing them in the right key. He's a little nervous to be playing in front of a crowd but figures that, since it's a punk bar on the edge of town, not many people from school will be there.

Of course, Richie once again forgets the cardinal rule of Derry - there's only one fucking social circle. And, obviously, because this is such a small town, there's a very limited amount of bars that students can go to where they won't get carded for alcohol, and The Engine is one of them. 

When they walk in, Bev immediately heading off to talk to the manager about their change in setup, Richie spots the group of footballers by the bar immediately. Chris is with them, and by the sounds of it, they're already drunk - or well on their way to it. There are a few cheerleaders with them; the Greta's are both present (Keene and Bowie) with their matching blonde ponytails and black dress combos. Darla Larzen is there, though she looks half asleep already against the bar, and a few other's Richie hasn't yet learned the names of but Eddie is notably absent from the crowd. Richie isn't sure if that's a relief or a dissapointment but, before he can decide, Bev is poking his side with her pointer finger. 

"We go on in five." She says, then she turns to Bill. "You okay on your own?"

"I'm always on my own when we're here." Bill says, with no infliction to his voice whatsoever. "I'll be over there." He gestures vaguely to an area in the exact opposite direction to the jocks and then disappears. 

Richie bites his lip, nodding at the bar and asks, "they usually here?"

Beverly blinks at him, and then notices who he's referring to. She purses her lips. "Yeah, they don't really care if you're underage here so they're here sometimes. Don't worry, they won't hastle you."

"That's not really what I'm worried about..." Richie mumbles, shifting the guitar on his back nervously. Bev gives him that considering look she does often, then morphs it into a smug looking grin and a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

"Your boy doesn't come here often, too divey, not really his scene."

Richie splutters, face going bright red. "He's not  _my boy_. He's  _his boy_ _!_ " he gestures with his thumb over to Chris who, in that moment, has decided to do a shot of something with the Greta's. Beverly gives him a pitying look, but then gestures towards the small stage.

"Well, that's his loss, now let's get up there and show everyone how fucking good we are."

Richie grins at that, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "My dahlin, this here small town ain't gonna know what hit 'em." 

Their set goes smoothly, Richie refusing to look anywhere but the corner where Bill is sitting - with only a few occasional glances towards the bar - the whole time. That is until, when halfway through their cover of Anna Sun, Richie glances over and straight into the captivating gaze of Eddie Kaspbrak. 

 _Not really his scene_. Richie thinks, mockingly, as he stumbles over his line. _"We rattle this town, we rattle this scene."_

He quickly looks away, hoping nobody noticed the fumble, and closes his eyes. Focusing on remembering the rest of the lyrics and not that fact that  _Eddie is watching him._ Thankfully, it's only Bev who seems to notice his falter, covering with her backup vocals. 

The next few songs go perfectly - Bev taking over vocals for a while - with Richie studiously avoiding the bar area (not even to check if Eddie is still there) but then the last song he'd promised to be a part of is coming up - his last song before Bev continues the set on her own - and Richie suddenly remembers just how direct the song feels now that Eddie is there. Bev had chosen the song, because she thought his voice was perfect for it and she "just loves the movie!", and Richie had meekly agreed to sing it, because he hadn't really thought about what it implies. 

But when it comes to it, Richie sitting on a stool, singing softly along to Bev's guitar playing - because she'd been the one to bring the acoustic - Richie finds himself cracking. And when he reaches the lyric, _"I can't take my eyes off you."_ it's almost as if everything is determined in the words sung between them; his eyes straying unintentionally over to Eddie's across the bar. And sticking there, locked together. Around them, all sound becomes muted but for the words Richie is singing, and Bev's strumming. The sound of the jock's cheering along to more shots, the cheerleaders laughing as Darla is finally helped out of the bar by two of the football players, Mike Hanlon one of them, the clinking of glasses from the other occupied tables. 

It's just them, staring at each other across a half-full bar, Eddie on the arm of his boyfriend while Richie pours his heart out - though however incidentally - through song. 

It's almsot a relief when Bev takes over the vocals, singing her part in that beautiful breathy way she does, because Richie's thoughts are barely able to keep up with the guitar tabs let alone the lyrics. Richie finally feels like the spell has been broken, and he's able to drag his gaze elsewhere. His eyes are firmly focused on a spot on the ceiling when the final lines come in, but even then Richie can't quite stave off the emotion in his voice.

_"I can't take my mind off you."_

When Richie looks back, Eddie is gone. His three friends are still there, though, so Richie reasons he won't be gone for long.

 

*

 

Bev has already begun another song by the time Richie is making his way over to Bill. Bill is on his phone when Richie finally reaches the table, but he looks up when Richie sits down and says, "you did good."

Richie takes the compliment, and settles himself in to a quiet rest of the night with Billy, listening to Bev finish her set, but then his plans are interrupted by Greta Bowie - _or maybe this one is Greta Keene?_ \- standing in front of their table and clearing her throat delicately. Richie and Bill both look up at the same time, but Bill only raises his eyebrows before going back to whatever is so important on his phone. Richie, trying to be polite, smiles welcomingly - if a little strained. 

"You're Richie, right?" Greta asks, twirling her ponytail around her fingers in a faux immitation of shyness. She looks anything but shy, though, in her sky high heels, red lipstick, and black dress pulled tightly over her cocked hip. 

Richie doesn't like the way she's standing, or smiling, but he replies nonetheless. "That's me."

"I'm Greta." Richie knows. "My friends and I were wondering if you wanted to sit with us?" She motions with the hand previously messing with her hair over towards the bar. Richie notices Eddie has returned, and is now engaged in conversation with Ben and Stan. There's a sour look on his face, and Chris is nowhere to be seen. "We just thought you were amazing on stage... is all."

Richie mulls it over, and Greta seems to falter a little, trying to subtly glance over to her friends (who give her encouraging looks when they think Richie isn't looking). It would get him closer to Eddie, is the only advantage Richie can see to following Greta Keene over to her table, which is a pretty great advantage, but the downside is he'll be closer to Eddie _with Chris_. Eventually, Richie figures he might as well take it. He looks at Bill, "you coming?" He asks. He's not really expecting Bill to say yes but, to his surprise, Bill glances over to the table consideringly, and nods. 

They go over, Richie taking the chair between Greta and Ben while Bill takes an unoccupied seat on the bench next to a softly scowling Stan. With a jolt, Richie realises Stan is scowling straight at him, and when he shoots him a questioning look, Stan only scowls harder. "So, Richie?" the other Greta preens, before Richie can mull over what could possibly be Stan's problem. "How long have you been playing guitar?"

Richie shrugs. "Since I was a kid, I guess, didn't really start singing until a a few years back, though."

Greta 1 jumps in before Greta 2 can respond, voice too loud in Richie's ear as she eagerly proclaims, "that's so cool!"

Greta 2 shoots a glare at Greta 1, and turns a sickeningly sweet smile on Richie. "Yeah, you're really talented."

It's at this point, that Richie realises that the Greta's were trying  _very hard_ and not so secretly to get into his pants. Richie glances at Bill, who smirks at him silently, and  _that fucker knew_. Richie regrets everything, just.  _Everything._ He's sitting at a table with his  _thing_ who has a boyfriend while two girl's who are his  _thing's_ friends try and fight over his dick, and oh! Look! His  _thing's_ boyfriend is on his way back over, stumbling slightly from the direction of the bathrooms. 

Richie glances at Eddie, who's glowering look has deepened exponentially - though it is safely directed at Chris and not Richie - and then promptly turns away from the Greta's and to the other person sitting next to him. Ben Hanscom. 

"Hey!" He chirps, as brightly as he can without coming across as depserate. He faintly hears Bill snort and reminds himself to bully him later for not warning him. "I'm Richie, you're Ben, right?"

Ben seems to jolt out of some sort of daze, his eyes glassy as he stares at the stage. "Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah, I'm Ben." Richie grins as Ben blushes, his gaze fluttering back to the stage. "It's nice to meet you." He tacks on, dreamily. On the stage, Beverly is singing something about not being able to have someone. There's a stage light directly behind her, making her hair look like it's on fire. She looks gorgeous. 

Richie nudges him to bring his attention back, "you know, Bev's single."

Ben blushes so hard Richie almost feels bad for teasing the guy, but then there's another snort from across the table - this time not from Bill - and Richie turns to Stan. Stan is leaning forward slightly, resting on his elbows across the table. "Ben won't ever ask her out." He says, matter-of-factly. 

"Oh?" Bill asks, uncharacteristically interested in what's going on. Richie can hear the Greta's grumbling behind him, but he's too interested in why Bill all of a sudden wants to try his hand at being conversational to really care that he's being rude when he turns his back to them in order to look at the boy's full on. 

Stan nods as Ben sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "He's been in love with her for years." Stan says, moreso to Bill than to Richie at this point. "The closest he's ever come to telling her was when we were thirteen, he wrote her a poem."

"Y-you gave Bev a poem?" Billy asks, perplexed. 

Ben shakes his head, remorsefully. "I could never pluck up the courage to give it to her."

Stan laughs, harsh, though not meanly. "He still has it in his locker."

Bill purses his mouth thoughtfully, staring at the table top but occasionally looking up at everyone through his lashes one by one, and then at Bev, where they linger. "You should guh-give it to her." He says eventually, "I ff-think she'd like that."

The conversation drops into a contemplative silence, Stan and Richie staring at Bill while Bill stares at Ben and Ben stares at the table. Bill's gaze flutters, first looking at Richie and then at Stan, where they linger until a blush spreads over the quiet boy's cheeks and he looks down. Suddenly, Richie gets it; Bill has a gigantic, fat, whopping crush on Stan. He keeps mum about it, figuring he can tease Billy about it later as payback for the Greta thing. _Karma's a bitch, Billiam, or it will be tomorrow._ Bill seem's to sense what he's thinking, because he shoots a glare at Richie while Stan moves on to a conversation with Eddie and Ben goes back to staring at Bev like a lovesick puppy.

From where Richie is sitting, he can't really see Eddie around Ben, not unless he leans way far back in his chair and tilts his head  _just so_ \- which he can't exactly do given how obvious that would be - but he can see the way Stan's eyes occasionally harden slightly as they slide back to Richie, and then shoot back to the end of the table where Eddie is sitting. Over the course of the next few minutes - wherein Richie tries to ignore more advances from the Greta's and Bill watches the conversation between Eddie and Stan like he can't quite figure out if he want's to join it or not - Richie gets the distinct impression that Stan  _really_ doesn't like him, and he's only putting up with his presence because he can't well ask him to leave. 

The tension only really leaves the table when Stan gets up to go to the bathroom, dragging a reluctant Eddie along with him.

Sometime right before Beverly gets off stage, Richie decides to go for a smoke break when he catches Eddie and Stan arguing in hushed voices in the short corridor leading to the bathrooms and the beer garden/smoking area. All three of them freeze when the door swings open with a loud enough creak to be heard over the faint music in that part of the bar, and Eddie stares owlishly at Richie while Stan just grimaces. 

"Well..." Is all he says, before he's giving Eddie one last meaningful glance and shoving past Richie to get back to their table. 

Richie watches him go, and then scratches the back of his neck awkwardly when nothing is said for a few moments. "He doesn't like me much, does he?" Richie tries to joke. 

Eddie laughs flatly, "Stan doesn't really like anyone."

Richie lets the door to the bar swing closed behind him and, as they're encased in the dimly lit and oddly smelling hallway, Ricihe comes to the sudden realisation that this is the first time he and Eddie are hanging out in public - in front of people. Looking at Eddie, it seems as if he's come to the same realisation. The silence drags on as neither of them really know what to say, and then Eddie blurts, "he knows." Richie tilts his head. "About us." Eddie explains, awkwardly, "he figured it out."

Richie nods, then sighs when Eddie's awkward smile turns into a distressed sort of grimace. Richie saunters forwards, encasing Eddie in his arms as the smaller boy sniffles. "He said he won't tell, but he's mad at me." It's almost a whisper by the end, and all Richie can do is shush him, rubbing a hand over his back as Eddie tucks his face into Richie's t-shirt. "He said I should break it off."

Richie freezes. "Me and you or you and him?"

Eddie shakes his head against Richie's chest. "I'm not sure, you came in before he could..." He breaks himself off with a sigh, and then pulls away from Richie's embrace, leaning back against the wall and tilting his head towards the ceiling. Richie mirrors his position on the opposite wall, but keeps his gaze firmly locked onto what he can see of Eddie's face. 

"And are you going to?" He's not quite sure who he means either. But it's a  _me or him_ question and they both know it. 

Eddie shakes his head, whispers, "your set was beautiful, Greta is right, you're really talented." Richie hears it for what it is.  _I'm not sure._  

"Thank you." He says, instead of calling Eddie's bluff. He's not sure he really wants to look at Eddie right now, not anymore, so he looks away, trying desperately to swallow the lump in his throat before it chokes him.

"Right." Eddie says, and Richie can feel the weight of his gaze on his face, burning a hole in his cheek. "Well, I'd better get back to..."

_To Chris._

"Yeah," Richie agrees. "I think we're heading off soon, so, I'll see you."

"See you, Rich."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i'm sorry about how this ended but i promise this is a only a lil bit of a filler, we learn a little more about the plot, but it really gets going in the next chapter...
> 
> Songs:  
> Anna Sun by WALK THE MOON  
> The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice (from the movie Closer - look up the synopsis for some juicy parallels)  
> You by The Pretty Reckless


	4. Too Young To Know, To Old To Admit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> directly after the dive bar, some things are revealed, a long awaited talk, and mother of the year award goes to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title taken from My Eyes by The Lumineers.
> 
> genuinely struggled writing this - i actually procrastinating this by writing my essay so maybe that's a good thing.
> 
> brace yourselves because we're meeting Sonia Kaspbrak.
> 
> also brace yourselves for my butchering of American geography. i've never been to California or Sacramento and i've never seen tule fog so pls dont roast me in the comments if i get stuff wrong.

Richie is lying in bed, unable to sleep (as he had been for the past hour), when there's a knock at his bedroom door. He frowns, glancing over to the digital  clock on his desk, 11:59 flashing back at him in red through the darkness. His mom is definitely asleep, she has alcoholics anonymous in the morning, and she wouldn't knock on his bedroom door at this time of night anyway. 

There's another knock, and Richie hauls himself out of bed, putting on his glasses and flicking on his bedside lamp as he does so, and skips over his dirty clothes from the day to open the door. On the other side, stands a slightly disheveled Eddie Kaspbrak. 

"Eds?" Richie asks, baffled, and suddenly feels slightly self-conscious over the fact that he's only wearing boxers and a tank top. "How did you get in here?"

"You left your front door unlocked." Eddie says. Richie groans.

"Fuck." He curses, angling past Eddie and hopping down the stairs to go lock the front door. His mom had been nagging him about remembering to do it - but it's not his fault their front door in Cali locked automatically; he's always forgetting he needs to actually do it himself now. He finds it a little strange that Eddie had just walked in - especially after their conversation not two hours ago, but then, once hes firmly dead bolted the door, he takes in Eddie's red face and hunched shoulders and all previous thoughts are immediately replaced by concern. 

Especially when Eddie stumbles forward, throwing his arms around Richie's midsection and presses his damp face into the cotton of Richie's top. "Shit..." Richie sighs, pressing his nose into the curls on top of Eddie's head. He smells faintly of alcohol but, mostly, he just smells like the coconut shampoo he uses. "Eds."

"I'm sorry." Eddie whispers, voice watery. "I didn't mean to say what I said in the bar - I was just deflecting because I know-  _I know_ I want you, but I also know I shouldn't." His breathing stutters, and he presses his face more firmly into Richie's chest as if to muffle the sound. His speaking also becomes more muffled, but in the quiet of the middle of the night, Richie hears him clearly. "I've known you for a few months, I've been with Chris for  _years_ , we were best friends before that.  _Why doesn't that matter anymore?"_

Richie's emotions are warring with themselves, but the chill of the corridor overrides any pressing need he has to respond and so, instead, he just gently takes Eddie's hand and pulls him back upstairs and into his warm bedroom. Richie's room is nothing like Eddie's; the walls are a dark blue, various band posters tacked up on the walls as well as a few pieces of art Richie had drawn himself or collected over the years. His bed is in the center of the room, instead of pushed up against the wall like Eddie's, and instead of pure white sheets, Richie's are grey. Richie's carpet is black (if you can see it under the dirty clothes and other miscellaneous trash littered about the place), but its the kind of carpet your toes sink into when you walk and Richie loves it - despite hiding it under his mess. His desk is overflowing with games consoles and a pile of game cases he hadn't bothered to put back on the shelf, the television above that. Instead of a wardrobe, Richie instead has a walk in closet - that you're not really able to walk into on account of all of his clothes being thrown onto the floor in there too - and besides that, a small bathroom. His old electric guitar is propped up by the window, half leaning against the desk chair Richie had moved there when he decided he used it less for actual desk work and more for smoking. 

His room is bigger than Eddie's, but it feels smaller. 

Despite it all, Eddie fits into Richie's space like he was made to be in it. He sits on the bed, falling back and staring at the ceiling morosely. Richie watches him for a moment, and then sinks down next to him and copies his position. 

"I don't know what you want me to say." He admits, turning his head towards the other boy.

Eddie turns his head too, his dark eyes seeming black in the low lamplight from Richie's bedside table. "Say you forgive me?"

Richie smiles, reaching out to brush a strand of hair - that wasn't really in the way - out of Eddie's face. "You know I forgive you."

Eddie's eyes shine. "You aren't mad at me?"

"No."

Eddie sits up suddenly, and pulls Richie up the bed until they're lying on the pillows instead. "I'm mad at me..." Eddie admits, "Stan just made me feel so... so..."

Richie presses a chaste kiss to Eddie's lips, which Eddie tries to follow after Richie pulls away. It's so endearing that Richie gives him another one, and relishes in the small smile that spreads across Eddie's lips, his eyes closed. "Does it really matter to you what Stan says?" Richie asks. 

Eddie licks his lips, and turns his face into Richie's pillow. "I guess not... but he's my friend and I hate to disappoint him."

"You're going to disappoint people, Eddie. It's inevitable, really." Richie laughs. "Take it from a certified fuck up, the people who matter will get over it."

Eddie's breaths are even, low, and Richie would think he'd maybe fallen asleep if he couldn't see the small frown on his brow. "I don't want to disappoint you."

Richie hooks a hand around Eddie's waist, pulling the smaller boy into him and resting his lips against his forehead. "You haven't."

"But I've hurt you." Eddie whispers. Richie nods. "Why can't this be easy? Why am I always going to hurt somebody."

"Mm, I think..." Righie hums, thinking it over, "I think you need to worry less about who you might hurt, and worry more about whether you're going to hurt yourself."

Eddie shifts, leaning backwards so he can look Richie in the eyes. "What do you mean?" He asks, and if he weren't lying down Richie is sure he would've tilted his head. Cute.

Richie hums again, biting his lip lightly in contemplation. "You're always doing what you think other people want - you should do what you want."

Eddie seems to think this over for a long time, and Richie just watches him think - watches the emotions flit over his face; confusion, realisation, a little bit of fear, and then determination. Eddie sits up slightly, the light from the lamp directly behind him throwing his features into darkness - but then it doesn't matter, because Eddie is surging forward, his hand on the side of Richie's face as he leans over him to kiss him, deeply, passionately.

Richie gasps a little, and then presses upwards into the kiss, his one hand still around Eddie's waist and his other coming up to rub his shoulder soothingly. Eddie takes this as encouragement, moving to straddle Richie's hips, and Richie tightens his arm, pulling Eddie closer to him and deepening their kiss. Eddie grinds down suddenly, and Richie lets out a groan before he realises that Eddie did it intentionally. 

Then he freezes. "Eds." He says.

"Don't call me that." Eddie moans, rolling his hips again. Richie can feel Eddie's hardness pressing into his own, and it makes his brain feel foggy. He shakes it away, however, and tightens his grip on Eddie's waist, stopping the boy's movements. "Wait, what?" Eddie asks, leaning away from their kiss.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" Richie counters. He rubs his hands up and down Eddie's sides, but doesn't let him move. 

Eddie shrugs, he looks confused, and a little disgruntled with his hair messed up and two bright red spots high on the apples of his cheeks. "Something I want to do... don't you want to?"

God Richie wants to but  _no_ , he thinks,  _not like this_. He shakes his head, "Eddie, you're a virgin."

Eddie rolls his eyes, making a tutting sound with his teeth, "if that's your issue then the solution is in the act, Richie." He nods down to their crotches, still pressed firmly together. Richie groans again at the image and removes one hand from Eddie's waist to rub his eyes, trying desperately to will the boner he still has away. "Or what..." Eddie mumbles, suddenly moving away - much to Richie's displeasure  _and_ relief. "You don't want me?"

 _No_. No Richie can't have Eddie thinking that. He sits up fully, facing Eddie on the bed and holding his head between his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "No!  _No_ , Eddie. I just don't want to take your virginity while you're still with Chris - it wouldn't feel right. It's nothing to do with how much I want you," he gestures down to his very obvious erection, "I just don't want our first time to be you cheating on your boyfriend."

Eddie laughs then, bitterly, "why should that matter? He did it first."  _What?!_ Richie shakes his head, storing that information away for a later date as Eddie once again dives forward, pressing his lips to Richie's. Richie indulges him for a moment, but when Eddie pulls away just to whip his shirt off, and then immediately reaches for Richie's, he stops him again. "Seriously?" Eddie whines.

Richie swallows, trying desperately not to give in to the little part of his brain that  _desperately_ just wants to say yes. "Eddie, whatever is going on right now, I don't want you to be torn between two people when we do this - you're emotional, and it's fogging your judgement."

Eddie scrunches his eyes shut, but nods. 

"Okay?" Richie asks.

"Okay." Eddie whispers. "I do want you, though."

Richie pulls Eddie into a hug, lying them back down on the bed and pulling the sheets over them, he pulls off his glasses, dropping them onto his side table uncaring, and lays down beside a lightly blushing Eddie. "I know. Let's sleep, okay? Tomorrow I'll drop you off back home before your mom can freak out."

Eddie hums, curling up against Richie's chest. "Thank you, 'Chee." Richie feels a surge of warmth in his heart, and tugs Eddie closer, the other boy adjusting so their legs tangle together under the sheets. "I'm going to break up with him." He whispers, pressing a kiss to Richie's collarbone. Richie smiles. 

 

*

 

Richie is rudely awoken by a pillow smacking him soundly in the face. "Wake up, asshole, if I'm not home in precisely ten minutes my mom is going to flip." Richie groans, another pillow to the face. 

"Nooo." He moans, turning over and mushing his face into his own pillow. Eddie laughs above him, and then straddles Richie's back and begins poking what part of his neck he can reach. 

"Yeeeesss!" He laughs, and Richie groans again. Suddenly, Richie flips them over, shoving a squealing Eddie down onto the mattress and covering him with his body, peppering as many sloppy kisses as he can get onto the boy's face. He blows a raspberry onto Eddie's cheek. "Gross! Ew, Richie! Your morning breath is disgusting."

Richie laughs, rolling off Eddie and wrapping him into his arms instead. "Shhh, it's too early for insults." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of Eddie's neck. Eddie shifts in his arms, but doesn't pull away. 

"It's six forty-five." He says. 

"Mhm." Richie hums. "Exactly, too early, sleep now."

Eddie chuckles, "C'mon, my mom's gonna have an aneurism." Then, much to Richie's chagrin, he's extracting himself from Richie's embrace, mumbling some comment about octopus arms, and getting up from the bed. Richie rolls over onto his back, so he can watch as Eddie pulls on his jeans from the day before and stretches, his wrinkled shirt riding up to show the expanse of his tan back. "Enjoying the view?" He smirks, turning his head to grin at Richie over his shoulder. Richie nods. 

"I'd enjoy it more from a little closer up." He flirts, reaching his hands out and making grabby-fingers at him. Eddie squints at him, but then he strides forward and leans over Richie, one knee on the bed beside him, and presses a firm kiss to Richie's lips - morning breath and all. "Mm, g'mornin Eddie Spaghetti." 

Eddie pulls away, his nose scrunched up adorably. "Quit calling me that." He snaps, and begins rooting around on the floor for his socks. "And get up - you said you'd drive me home and I need time to shower."

Richie shakes his head, whining. "Nooo, let's just skip today."

Eddie's head snaps up so fast he winces. "Skip?" He squeaks. "Richard, I haven't skipped a day in my entire life."

Richie sits up and pulls a face, "you've never skipped? Not once? You're a senior and you've never skived off a day in your life?"

Eddie scoffs and raises an eyebrow, gesturing to himself impatiently. "What about me makes you think I could possibly be a truant?"

Richie laughs, "touche, Eds, touche. But, like, what about when you're sick and stuff? Surely your attendance isn't 100%, that's just impossible!"

"Ugh, please, I'd rather throw up in the school bathrooms than let my mom know I'm feeling sick. She'd have me in the hospital in minutes." Eddie gripes, sitting on the edge of Richie's bed to pull on his found socks. Richie has heard a few tales of Eddie's mom's over-protectiveness, but he thinks maybe Eddie is exaggerating a little bit on that one. Hospitalisation? Really? Eddie glares at him. "C'mon, move your ass, we need to get going!"

Richie shakes his head. "Nope, you've just made up my mind - we're skipping."

Eddie crosses his arms. "I could just walk, you know?"

"You could..." Richie grins. "But then you'd be missing out on spending the day with me." Eddie purses his lips, and obviously tries very hard to look disapproving, but Richie knows he's got him by the way his cheek twitches slightly. "C'mon, Eddie!" He pleads. "It's a Friday - nothing important happens on a Friday!"

Eddie sighs, and Richie fist pumps. "Okay, Dick,  _theoretically_ if I agree to tarnish my perfect record, incur the wrath of my mother  _and_ Stan, and spend the day with you... what's in it for me?"

"Beside's my company?" Richie teases, wiggling his eyebrows. Eddie shoves him. "Okay, okay." He laughs, holding his hands up placatingly as Eddie shifts as if to shove him again. "First on the agenda,  _breakfast_."

 

*

"Ok, I can't actually cook, so..." 

Eddie laughs, leaning against the open doorway to the kitchen. "I can't cook either, my mom won't let me near the stove."

Richie frowns. "Does your mom think you'll burn the house down or something?" That's partly why Richie can't cook, not for lack of trying - back in Cali when his mom was near constantly passed out drunk and his dad was never around, Richie had had to learn to fend for himself but after nearly burning the house down trying to cook some bacon and waking his mom up with the screeching of the fire alarm, Richie hadn't attempted to make anything other than cereal and pot noodles since. 

Eddie grimaces a little, "something like that." 

Richie wants to ask what the grimace was for, but figures that if Eddie wanted to talk about it he'd say, so he shrugs it off then turns around, fetching a box of cereal from the top cupboard and placing it on the island counter, before leaning his hip against it, angled towards Eddie. "So, we got this." He gestures to the box of on-brand cocoa puffs. "Or toast."

Eddie huffs a laugh, stepping into the kitchen and up to the counter to grab the box. He's standing extremely close, his shoulder brushing Richie's chest as he reads over the ingredients. Richie tries not to get distracted, but it's a little hard when Eddie's face scrunches up adorably and he spins to mirror Richie's position, leant sideways against the counter. "This is so bad for you, it has nearly half of your daily intake of sugar in it!  _Half_ _!"_ He pokes at the box, shoving it away slightly as if just being near it is a crime.

Richie laughs, "What's wrong with that?"

Eddie balks. "Uh." He scoffs. "Nothing, I guess, if you want to have a heart attack by the time you're forty."

"Well, gee, Eddie Spaghetti, I'm here for a good time not a long time!" Eddie hits him, none-too gently, on the arm.

"Hardy har har, Trashmouth! Don't call me that!" Eddie grabs the box of cocoa puffs, stomping across the kitchen and reaching onto his tiptoes to try and put the box back onto the shelf Richie had taken it from. Unfortunately for Eddie, Richie is a lot taller than him, even on tippy-toes, and he's barely able to touch the shelf with the top of the box let alone reach high enough to put it up there. Richie bites his lip to keep from laughing as Eddie attempts to hop, "fucking hell." he hears a mumble, and then Eddie is turning around, face red. 

Richie raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "Struggling?"

Eddie squints at him menacingly. "Fuck you." He huffs, then turns back around and jumps up onto Richie's counter. Richie can't help it, he laughs. Eddie is beet red, glaring at him when he hops back down. Richie tries to pull him closer, but the stubborn boy persists, planting his feet and refusing to budge or hug Richie back when he wraps his arms around him, still laughing. Eventually, he sobers up, offering to make omelettes as a peace offering.

"I think two people can handle making some omelettes. right?" 

 

*

 

_"That's not an omelette that's scrambled eggs."_

_"Well, fuck me, I tried okay? Flipping them over is harder than flipping your mom."_

_"Shut up, Richie! Stop, you're getting them all over the damn floor! Here, let me do it."_

_"Hah! Look's like you're gonna have to change your name to Eggie Kasprak."_

_"You're an ass."_

 

*

 

"You have egg in your hair." Richie giggles, reaching across the island to pull a half-cooked piece of egg from the top of Eddie's head. 

"Whose fault is that, I wonder?" Eddie snarks, taking a sip from the OJ Richie had poured - and then poured all over the counter when he was too busy laughing at Eddie's first attempt at an omelette after banning Richie from the task since his first ended up all over the floor, and Eddie. 

Richie grins, "I-"

"Richard?" Richie and Eddie both freeze, and then seconds later his mom is bustling into the kitchen, halfway through tying her hair into a messy ponytail. "Oh." She says, when her eyes fall on Eddie, then they widen, taking in the rest of the kitchen. "Oh, wow." She gasps.

"I'll clean it up!" Richie hastens, eyes comically wide, magnified by his glasses lenses. 

Maggie closes her mouth, glares at her son, then nods. "You better." Then she turns to Eddie, smiling brightly. "Good morning Eddie, I wasn't expecting to see you here so early."

"Um." Eddie says, eyes trailing from Maggie over to Richie, Maggie's grin widens, and Richie tenses up. "Hi, yeah, sorry we didn't warn you."

Eddie goes back to shoveling eggs into his mouth, avoiding eye contact with either Tozier. Richie watches his mom, who raises her eyebrows at him and smirks. "That's okay, I just hope you boys are being sensible." Eddie chokes on the eggs. "Careful, dear." Maggie pushes Eddie's glass closer to him. "Drink your OJ." Richie laughs, but stops when his mom turns her mischievous grin on him. Most people think Richie would be more like his dad but, really, it's his mom where he gets his sense of humour from. "Richard, do we need to have another talk about responsibility?" Richie groans. "You know they give out free condoms at the clinic, I can bring some home for you if you like."

Eddie chokes again, this time on the orange juice. Richie heads around the island to pat him on the back. "Mom!" He moans. "We're not- we just- we slept!"

Maggie eyes them up critically, Eddie's blushing face, still coughing slightly, and Richie's mortified expression, and then nods. "Alright, I believe you." Richie sighs in relief. "I'm heading out to my meeting and then I have work in the afternoon, will you boys be able to get to school okay?"

Richie see's Eddie tensing out of the corner of his eye and nods quickly. "Yep! I'll drive us."

Maggie raises a skeptical eyebrow, "Eddie's going to get on your death trap? Okay, sure, have fun walking."

Then she's gone, and Richie feels Eddie relax beside him, then laugh. "Man, I really thought she was gonna shout at us."

Richie waves him off, "nah, mom's chill - just don't tell her we're skiving."

Eddie sighs, wistfully. "Your mom is cool, nothing like my mom but - uh - what did she mean by 'death trap'?"

Richie shrugs, hastily, "nothing important, let's clean up then go back upstairs."

 

*

 

With breakfast done, Richie soon realises he has no idea what to do with the rest of the day. In California, he was never short on things to do; there was a skate park just around the corner from his house and, unlike Derry, the place was big enough to hang out in the city center without being caught truanting. Here, though, there's no way they could go into town and not be spotted by someone who knows them - and Richie isn't exactly familiar enough with Derry yet to know of any niche hangouts, other than The Engine, of course, but he doesn't think the bar will be open this early in the day. 

So, when they get to Richie's room he freezes for a moment before taking in Eddie's rumpled clothes. He suggests they shower and change - Eddie borrowing a pair of Richie's old faded ripped jeans that he's forced to roll up a few times, and a band t-shirt that he tucks in to hide how comically big on him it is. He wears his own belt and shoes, and the whole outfit looks pretty adorable, maybe a little punk-ish for the boy, if you ask Richie. 

By the time they're done, it's only 9 o'clock and Richie finally has to admit he has no idea what they can do next. Eddie snorts when Richie says so, snuffling his white sneaker into Richie's carpet and clasping his hands behind his back. His hair falls into his face as he tilts his head down, trying to hide his fond grin. "This 'skipping school for the pleasure of your company' thing is the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever." 

Richie gapes at him, faking a gasp, "Did you just quote Donald Trump at me?"

"Maaaaaaaybe."

"Shit, you're not a Trump supporter are you? I should've known." Richie jokes, pointing his finger accusingly at Eddie, who places his hand over his heart as if to say  _who me?_ Then something in Eddie's eyes light up and he bites his lip mischievously, stalking closer to Richie. "No." Richie gasps. "Stay away from me! You're a hick boy from a hick town, and I will not be infected by your- oof!" Eddie tackles him, sending him sprawling on top of his rumpled covers. He laughs, loudly, as Eddie playfully bites at his still pointing finger. "Help!" Richie yelps, pretending to struggle as Eddie continues snapping at his hand waving hand. "I'm being eaten by a Trump supporter!" Eddie outright laughs at that, falling backwards and rolling to the side to lie next to him on the bed, he wraps his arms around his waist and nuzzles into Richie's side. 

Richie's laughter quietens down to a breathy chuckle, and he turns his head to tuck his nose into Eddie's hair - liking the way it smells of his shampoo but also missing the coconut scent Eddie usually douses himself in. "Hey" He whispers, Eddie's head shifts, his hair tickling Richie's nose, as he nods, "do you think there's an association out there for tiny gay cannibals who support Trump?"

 Eddie gasps, "Hey!" He sits up, slapping Richie on the chest, and then leaving his hand there. "I'm not tiny!"

Richie lets out one loud, 'hah!' and a snort, "okay, from that entire thing,  _that_ is what's offensive to you?"

"Well I'm also not a Trump supporter." Eddie scoffs. "If either of us here could be one, it's you, Rich Boy."

Richie rolls his eyes. "Eds." He tuts, shaking his head. "I'm a bisexual, half-Hispanic boy living with his single mother who is a nurse." Eddie tilts his head, falling quiet all of a sudden. Richie frowns, "what?" He asks, worrying at his lip when Eddie lies back again, a small grimace on his lips. "Eddie?"

"It's just..." Richie pulls Eddie into him, curling his arm around Eddie's neck and running his hand lightly through his hair. "I just didn't know that about you... that you're Hispanic that is."

Richie's breath hitches, suddenly worried, "Is that a problem?" He'd been joking on before, but what if Eddie really is-

"No!" Eddie nearly shouts, and Richie winces at the close proximity to his ear. "Sorry," Eddie says, meekly, "but, uh, no. No way. I just realised that we've spent so long talking about me that I don't really know that much about you."

Richie frowns thoughtfully. He'd never really considered that before, he'd been so happy to learn as much about Eddie as he possibly could. Sure, they'd swapped twenty questions that first time they talked, but Richie had never really talked about his past, his family, or anything really beyond his likes and dislikes. They'd since talked about Eddie's family - how his dad died when he was five, and his mom got crazy protective, how he'd had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to keep doing cheerleading after he broke his wrist when he was fifteen. 

Richie never minded before - but now, with Eddie looking up at him with wide curious eyes, Richie realises that he wants Eddie to know him too. 

"What do ya wanna know?" He asks, looking at him through his bottom lashes. Eddie grins, wide and toothy - and with dimples. 

"Well - firstly, how did I not know you were Hispanic? Do you speak Spanish?"

Richie laughs at the pure excitement in Eddie's voice. He tightens his arm around Eddie's shoulders, "take a breather Eds, I'm only half-Hispanic, and I'm pale as shit so it isn't really that obvious." He sighs, sobering a little. "My mom's Cuban, but we don't really talk much with her side of the family because of a fall-out before I was born. I've met my Lita, but I haven't seen her in a while either."

Eddie hums, "Lita?"

"It's short for Abuelita which mean's, uh, 'Little Grandmother'; she's a fierce lady, I think she'd like you." 

Eddie tucks his face into Richie's arm, and he can feel his grin pressing into his skin. "You think?"

"Definitely." Richie nods. "And I do speak Spanish."

"Say something in Spanish."

Richie groans. "That's such a cliche."

Eddie laughs, shoving at him lightly. "Pleeeaaaseee!" He begs.

Richie refuses to look at Eddie, knowing he'll be hit with the full force of his puppy-eyes, but even he can't not give in when Eddie starts fake sniffing. "Fine! Uh, hah, okay. _Eres mi pequeña y linda frijol_ *"

"What does that mean?" Eddie asks.

Richie rolls his eyes cheekily, even though he knows Eddie can't see his face. "You'd know if you weren't flunking Spanish." 

"I'd care more about flunking Spanish if I wasn't taking German." Eddie snarks back

Richie gasps, mockingly. "You speak German?" He asks, gripping Eddie tighter and rocking him slightly. "Say something!"

Eddie groans, wriggling free of his tight grasp to look down at him, shaking his head at his antics. " _Ich hasse dich_ **" he mutters, poking his tongue out. 

"Who has a dick?" Richie snickers, unable to keep the giggle out of his tone.

Eddie glares at him disapprovingly. "Don't be disgusting!"

Richie apologises, trying his hardest to keep his face straight as Eddie continues to glare at him. They stare at each other for a long moment, then Richie bursts out laughing, Eddie following soon after giving up trying to look stern reproachful. "Oh my God." Eddie giggles, "you're so childish."

"You're laughing too honeybee!" 

Eddie shakes his head. "Shut up and tell me more."

"Like..?"

"Like... What's it like in Cali?"

"Well." Richie licks his lips, trying to picture his old home town in his head. "I'm from Sacramento, so I've always kinda been used to big city life you know? Moving here was a bit of a shock to the system."

Eddie hums, laying his head back down and shifting so he lies comfortably on Richie's arm. "Was it warm in Cali?"

Richie nods, curling his hand back around to stroke mindlessly at Eddie's hair. "Mostly, but during the rainy seasons we'd get this epic fog, y'know? I mean like,  _can't see five-hundred feet in front of you_ kinda fog. It's why I never really drove over there, my eyesight's already shitty enough without having to contend with fucking silent hills two-point-oh."

Eddie laughs. "Sounds _gnarly_." Richie snorts, rolling his eyes. "You guys say that over there, right?"

"Yeah, but like, when you say it..?" 

Eddie makes an affronted noise. "What's wrong with me saying it?"

Richie waves the hand not crushed under Eddie's back in some sort of vague  _you know_ gesture in the air. "Just... your accent, like, it sounds so weird."

Eddie laughs. "Okay..." He says. "What about  _tubular_." Richie groans. "What? Don't like that either?  _Tubular_."

"No. It's just, nobody  _actually_ says that besides, like, Shaggy from Scooby-Doo." Richie laughs, loudly. " _Tubular_. Fuck, what is this? Stranger Things?"

Eddie huffs. "Ok, Mr. West Coast Represent, don't laugh too hard, you'll burst a lung and then I'll just have to leave you to choke on your own breath."

Richie grins, "Oh, Eds." He sighs. Eddie frowns. "You should not have quoted a Katy Perry song to me." 

Eddie's eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "No. Nonono, please do not start singing Katy Perry." He begs.

Richie rolls over, kneeling over Eddie with a shit eating grin on his face. "Why? Don't you wanna hear how  _nothing comes close to the Golden Coast!"_ Richie sings, deliberately rising his pitch so his delivery is comically bad. "Come on, Eds.  _Once you party with us-"_

"Noooo! What have I done?" Eddie groans, covering his face with his hands.

"- _You'll be falling in love._ " Richie grabs Eddie's hands, waving them around in the air to the tune." _Oh o woah a oh!"_

Eddie laughs, still pretending to be upset through his giggles. "I've created a monster!" Richie stands, beginning to bounce on his bed to the rest of the song, making sure his voice is as high and break-y as possible. Eddie lies flat on the bed, shifting slightly with Richie's erratic movements, trying hard to hold in his laughter as Richie goes ham, shaking his head and his hips in a poor imitation. "You're not even doing the dance right!" Eddie wails. 

"Then show me how it's done, Spagheds!" 

"Ew. Not if you ever say that ever again."

"Shut up and dance with me."

Eventually, Eddie does. 

 

*

 

"I bet I can hold a handstand longer than you." Richie says later, licking at a spoonful of ice-cream. Eddie raises an eyebrow doubtfully, dipping his own spoon into the tub between them for another scoop. 

They'd migrated to the living room, Richie's phone hooked up to the wireless speakers as they talk. Neither of them are actually sitting on the sofas, choosing instead to rest against them on the floor, their feet sinking into Richie's mom's soft carpet. 

"You do realise I'm a cheerleader." Eddie remarks.

Richie grins. "Couldn't miss it, what with the whole uniform and everything.  _Adorable_ by the way."

Eddie sticks his tongue out. "And you still think you can beat me at a handstand competition?"

Richie nods. "I'm actually very good with balance, my friends and I used to try and parkour-"

"Of course you did."

"Ended up in the hospital a few times-"

"Uh huh."

"But I never died, so..." He shrugs as Eddie laughs, playing up the smugness. In truth, Richie was terrible at parkour, mainly because he's afraid of heights, but he isn't lying about the balance thing. Richie actually is pretty good at handstands.

He's just not going to tell Eddie it's because he used to attend yoga classes with his ex-girlfriend when he was sixteen.

"I've been doing gymnastics since I was old enough to walk, Richie, I really don't think you're gonna win this one."

"Pfft." Richie scoffs. "Gymnastics-schmastics, I'm not challenging you to a splits competition, it's only a handstand."

"Okay..." Eddie sings, standing up and beginning to move the remnants of their ice-cream out of the way. "But you'd better not challenge me to a splits competition, I'll win that too and then you'll be _really_ embarrassed."

Richie grins, holding back a joke about how he won't mind if he gets to see Eddie's ass in the splits, and joins him in standing up, rubbing his hands together. "Okay?" He asks, Eddie nods. "On three. One, two, three."

Richie nearly stumbles right from the start, a little out of practice, but after finding his balance, he actually finds he's not bad - nowhere near as good as Eddie though. Richie's arms tire after only thirty seconds, and he falls after his arm wobbles. Eddie, like the fucking showoff he is, stays for several seconds more before expertly lowering himself back to the ground in some kind of fancy backwards roll. He doesn't even wobble. 

"You totally could've held that longer, couldn't you?"

Eddie blushes, but looks more than a little smug when he says. "Just didn't want to embarrass you any further."

 

 *

 

"You have a music room?" Eddie gawks, spinning around the center of the room slowly, taking in the grand piano by the large windows, and the assorted guitars and other instruments hanging on the walls. There are several cozy chairs on the opposite side of the room, and an electric drum kit yet to be assembled in a box by the door, as well as a few stools tucked away in the corner for convenience but, otherwise, the rest of the space is wide and open, the room echoing slightly with all of the empty air. "A whole fuckin' room just for music." He sighs to himself. 

Richie grins, moving over to the wall and picking his favourite acoustic off the rack. His other guitar, the electric, holds a permanent place in his room, but he keeps this one in here because the acoustic sounds better when played in an open space. "It probably could've been another bedroom but, well, it's just me and mom so..." He shrugs. "Why not?"

"Is your mom musical?" Eddie asks, splaying his hands gently on the keys of the piano.

"Yeah." Richie says. "The piano is hers - and she has another upright one in the hall downstairs, though, that one's mostly just now for decoration since she got this one when we moved in."

"Wow." Eddie whispers, and then spins again, mouth wide open. "Is this what you wanna do?" He says suddenly, turning his gaze onto Richie, the remnants of his awe still lighting up his face.

Richie fiddles with a guitar strap, pulling his acoustic over his head and pulling on a few strings, checking the tuning. "I don't know - yeah? Maybe." He sighs, and Eddie tilts his head, stepping closer. "I'd like to, it's just not a very easy thing to be successful at."

Eddie nods, but then smiles. "I reckon if anyone can do it, you can."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Play something."

"Wow - you really are becoming predictable." Richie chuckles. Eddie gasps.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Asking me to speak Spanish, and now you're asking me to play something!" Richie explains, smiling to let Eddie know he isn't serious. "Got any requests?"

Eddie scrunches his nose at him playfully, then plops himself down in one of the cozy chairs. "Just... something you can dance to."

Richie wiggles his brows suggestively. "You gonna dance for me Eds?"

"If I had something, I'd throw it at you." Eddie deadpans. 

Richie chuckles, plucking a few cords now he knows the guitar is properly tuned. In his head he runs through the list of songs he knows, and the list of songs that aren't sappy love songs or hard rock songs. _Something to dance to_. His brain stops suddenly, coming to rest on one song in particular that makes Richie's heart beat twice as fast. He bites his lip, nervously, plucking a few more cords and trying to remind himself of the tone. 

He strums once, then again, and then when he's sure he's got it right he looks up at Eddie, who is watching him intently. "So..." Richie hesitates. "I kinda, uh, I kinda wrote this so, be kind?"

Eddie says nothing, so Richie takes a deep breath and takes the plunge. 

He doesn't write his own music often, and plays it for people even less but, here he is; standing in front of a boy that he likes  _a lot_ baring his soul to be laughed at if it turns out he's not as good as he likes to think he is. 

" _Ain't we been tense piano strings, aren't we ever struck by anything?_

 _Ain't we been moved wayward teeth, how long ya been drifting?_ _"_

Richie see's movement out of the corner of his eye, and his head snaps up as he sings the next verse. Eddie is standing, grinning widely and nodding his head along to Richie's playing. Richie grins at the sight, relieved he's not being laughed at. He keeps playing, getting more into it as Eddie begins moving his entire body with his head bopping, somehow managing to make the moves look graceful as he weaves around the room.

Richie reaches the chorus, and Eddie spins a little into the center of the room, arms above his head. The tune slows again, and Eddie begins swaying from side to side, their eyes locked together. Richie moves his own body, stepping closer to Eddie and becoming more confident in his playing. When the tune picks up again, Richie tries his best to keep up with Eddie's dancing, jumping a little - as much as he can while he's prohibited by the guitar. 

Eddie spins again, and then spins right up to Richie, laughing a little as he places his hand on Richie's shoulder, dancing around his back and to his other side, tracing his hand around Richie's shoulder blades. Richie shivers, his voice jumping slightly. Eddie dances away again, but not too far as he stops right in Richie's eye line, doing his best air guitar and mimicking Richie's ungraceful movements with his own -  _actually good_ \- versions of the moves. He laughter rings out over the song, light and playful, as Eddie bangs his head like Richie's doing, letting his untamed waves flop in front of his face.

" _Hey, didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell you so?_

_Everything's under control._

_C'mon I told ya, I got everything under control._

_Like a wild moan. Like a wild moan."_

Richie strums the last few notes as Eddie comes to a stop in front of him, reaching up to place his hands around Richie's neck as his playing slows, the last few chords fading out into nothing. They grin at each other for a bit, probably looking like lunatics. Then Eddie whispers, "you're amazing."

And Richie kisses him.

The guitar is pressed between them, causing Richie to have to bend awkwardly over it just to reach Eddie's lips, and it presses a little uncomfortably into his ribs but he doesn't care. Not when he has the most gorgeous boy in front of him, panting slightly from dancing around the room to  _Richie's song._  

Richie feels like he could fly. 

_*_

 

It's a few hours later, when Richie remembers something about the night before - something he'd meant to ask but had completely forgotten about. 

He purses his lips, wondering if it's even worth asking, as Eddie potters around the kitchen, putting together some sandwiches for them both. Once again, Richie has been banned from any input after cutting his finger with the butter knife ( _"seriously, Rich, it isn't even sharp, how did you manage to cut yourself so badly?!"_ _)_ and getting blood all over his shirt. 

Eddie had made him change and it was while he was doing it, spotting Eddie's clothes from the night before in his washing basket, and recalling the way Eddie had pulled his shirt off in the dark of Richie's room, that he remembered something the boy had said. 

"Eds?" Richie asks, somewhat apprehensive. He's pretty sure he knows what it means, but he isn't sure how Eddie is going to react to him bringing it up. 

"Mmm?" Eddie hums, not bothering to turn away from his task.

"What did you mean last night when you said, 'he did it first'?" Eddie freezes, and Richie panics. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I've just been  _thinking_ and-"

"Richie." Eddie interrupts him. Richie falls silent, watching as Eddie crosses one of his arms over his midsection self-consciously. "It's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just kind of a... weird story."

Richie frowns. "Weird how?"

"Chris, uh, back when we first got together, Chris cheated on me? I guess?" 

Richie frowns even harder. How can you not be sure if you were cheated on? It's a pretty straight forward concept, is it not? "You guess?"

Eddie shrugs, and he looks so uncomfortable, Richie wants to take it all back and never open his mouth, but he's asked now, and he wants to know - because if this is all some sort of revenge plot, Richie isn't sure if he'll be able to handle that. "Yeah, uh, it was back when we'd only really just begun to blur the lines between best-friends and boyfriends, I'd say about a month in? We'd gone on dates and kissed and stuff but we hadn't really had  _the_ talk yet - anyway, he didn't tell me about it until like a year ago, and we got into this huge fight over it..."

Richie's mind is once again whirring, and things are starting to add up. "Bev mentioned you two had some trouble last year, is that what it was about?"

Eddie nods, solemnly. "Yeah, and a few other things - it came out right after we'd decided to go public, and I felt like I couldn't really trust him so I asked him to wait but... but he told everyone anyway." Eddie sighs. "It was a long time ago, I forgave him for it eventually. Then we went back to normal, pretending like nothing had happened." He says the last part bitterly, and Richie is reminded of what Eddie told him on the first day they met, about how Derry likes to sift its problems under the rug and pretend they don't exist. 

Richie is starting to wonder just how much of that was Eddie projecting onto Derry, or if maybe its Derry projecting onto Eddie. 

"But you're..." Richie hesitates. Eddie looks at him, making a hand motion as if urging him to continue. "You're over it, right?"

"Of course, it was ages ago." Eddie nods, then frowns when Richie bites his lip. He must read something on Richie's face because a second later his mouth drops open, a soft 'oh!' leaving his lips, and then he strides across the kitchen to Richie's side, cupping his face in both hands. "Rich, what happened in the past between me and Chris has nothing to do with what you and I have now." Richie nods. "Okay? I mean it. It's ancient history, not even Don is mad about it anymore."

Richie scrunches up his face as Eddie steps away, returning to the sandwiches. He's trying to recognise the name, figure out where he's heard it mentioned before, and then it clicks. "Don? Chris' brother, Don?" He shakes his head. "Why would he be mad?"

Eddie hums distractedly. "Well, it was his boyfriend Chris slept with." 

"Adrian?" Richie gasps. "Chris slept with Adrian?"

Eddie glances over his shoulder. "Didn't I mention that?" he frowns. 

Richie shakes his head  _no. No you did not mention that._ Richie leans fully back against the counter, trying to figure out this new information in his mind - given the timeline, Chris and Adrian must've happened just before he died - which just makes this story even more of a clusterfuck than what it already was. Richie had known there was something up with Derry, he'd been told many times before, but now there's a whole new layer to it, and through it all, Richie is finally getting a look into what Eddie's relationship is actually like. 

Richie had though, naively, that Eddie and Chris were the 'perfect' couple - childhood best friends turned lovers, cheerleader and footballer, preacher's son and boy next door. Obviously, it hadn't all been daisies and rainbows if Eddie was willing to cheat on Chris, but Richie is a little gratified to find that he isn't the only  _other woman_ in this equation. He wonders how Eddie must've felt, finding out after  _years_ that his boyfriend had cheated on him with his older brother's boyfriend -  _his dead friend._ He wants to ask more questions;  _how did you find out? How did Don react? How close were you and Adrian?_ But he see's the way Eddie's shoulders are tense, as if expecting Richie to drill him some more, and immediately feels guilty. It's obviously an emotional topic, and Eddie obviously doesn't want to talk about it.

So Richie doesn't make him. 

 

* 

 

Richie's mom comes home around six and regards their lazy attire suspiciously but must decide not to comment on it as she purses her lips and moves on into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water from the Brita. She comes back into the living room after a moment, watching the two of them watching reruns of  _Extreme Hoarders_ \- Richie had made them watch it once he realised how much it made Eddie squirm. "What time do you have to be home, Eddie?" She asks.

Eddie checks the time on his phone, and then jumps. "Uh, immediately." He says, and Richie winces, watching him scroll through notification after notification - all of which are from  _mom_. 

"C'mon, I'll drive you." Richie nudges him, and Eddie smiles softly in thanks.

"Take the car, Rich." Richie's mom says, raising an eyebrow pointedly. 

"You got it, Mags." Richie snags the keys from their place on the coffee table.

"Call me that again and I'll ground you so hard gravity will be jealous." She snarks, pointing a finger at him in warning. 

Richie shoots her the finger guns, winking and clicking his teeth. She just raises an eyebrow, and Richie's grin turns sheepish. "Sorry." He mumbles. "C'mon, Eds, your stallion awaits!"

Eddie's house is on the other side of town to Richie's, and the drive there is mostly filled by the same banter they'd shared throughout the day, only stopping once Richie pulls up to the curb at Eddie's house, flicking the engine off and opening the door. "What are you doing?" Eddie asks, getting out the car as well. 

"Walking you to your door." 

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "I'm sure I can make it." He says, but lets Richie walk beside him up to the porch anyway. They stand for a moment, just looking at each other, then they both start talking at once.

"I just-"

"I wanted to-"

They stop, then Richie laughs and Eddie looks away, blushing. "Uh, you go." Richie insists.

"I was just gonna say that I enjoyed today, so... thanks."

Richie grins. "Best trade deal in the history of trade deals?"

Eddie giggles, punching his shoulder playfully. "Shut up! Way to ruin the moment!"

"Oh." Richie fake gasps, placing a hand over his mouth. "We were having a moment? Was this a moment?" He gestures between the two of them, ignoring Eddie's protest as he wraps his arms around Eddie's waist, picking him up from the ground and swaying him side to side. 

"Put me down - God!"

"Nope, just me!"

"Ugh! You're so an-"

The front door swings open suddenly, squeaking on its hinges, and Eddie's smile drops off his face so quickly Richie would doubt it was ever there. He swallows, setting Eddie back down on the ground and turning slightly towards the door. Who he presumes is Eddie's mom is staring back at them, an unreadable expression on her face - something between shock, disappointment, and distaste, her round face turning a splotchy shade of red. 

It makes her look like she just ate something really spicy. 

She's dressed in what looks like a floral pajama shirt, but could actually just be a really ugly blouse, and blue denim capri pants. She's a large woman, rotund, with limp hair that's making an attempt to be curly (Richie spots a stray curler she's missed in the back) and there's a hint of cracking foundation around her eyes and mouth. 

In short, she looks nothing like Richie had expected Eddie's mom to be. 

Richie had expected the stereotypical suburban mom - plump, but thin, with tan white skin like her son's and waving brown hair in an elegant up-do. Sonia Kaspbrak is anything but that, and the only thing she has in common with her son is how short she is - Eddie must get the rest of his looks from his dad.

"Eddie-bear." She says, voice wispy. "Who- who is this?"

Eddie swallows audibly, looking at Richie with wide eyes and opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Richie feels an awkward laugh bubbling up his throat, but manages to tamp it down with a fake cough. "Ma." Eddie says, slowly turning his head to look at her, eyes full of worry. "This is Richie - a friend."

"A friend?" 

Eddie nods. "Yes."

"And... what is your _friend_ doing here?" Sonia asks, a sharpness to her tone that hadn't been there before. Eddie winces, almost imperceptibly. 

"Well..." He's speaking carefully, as if afraid that Sonia might explode at any minute. Given how red she's getting, Richie wouldn't be surprised if she did. Richie feels like he should say something, help in some way, but with how the conversation is going so far, Richie is more than a little afraid that Eddie's mom might bite his head off. "Chris was busy, so Richie gave me a ride home after practice."

Sonia looks Eddie up and down, and raises an eyebrow. "Sweetie, where is your uniform?"

Richie gulps, Eddie elbows him. "I left it there?"

"You left it there?" 

God, this conversation is tense. Everything is tense. Richie wants to leave and never look at Sonia Kaspbrak's tomato red face of judgement ever again. "Yes." Eddie nods, blinking innocently. 

Sonia stares them down for an extra long, sweaty, panic filled moment, and then the hard edge leaves her shoulders and her voice goes back to that whiny wispy cadence it had when she first opened the door. "Eddie-bear!" She tuts. "You know you need to wash your uniform between practices, do you want to be dirty Eddie?"

Eddie sighs, but less out of relief - like Richie is feeling - and more like this is a lecture he gets every day. "No, Ma." He agrees, voice stale as he hunches his shoulders.

Sonia steps away from the door, back into the house, her mumbling fading with her as she gets further and further away. Eddie turns to him once she's out of earshot. "I'm sorry about her." 

Richie whistles. "That was intense!" Then he grins, nudging Eddie with his shoulder, " _Eddie-bear"_

Eddie opens his mouth to respond - angrily by the looks of it - but then Sonia is reappearing, now with an apron on, and says, "Eddie, invite your  _friend_ in for dinner, I'd like to get to know him."

Before either of them can provide any excuses, shes gone again, their protests falling on death ears. They turn to each other at the same time, twin expressions of horror on their faces. 

"I'm gonna die." Richie croaks.

Eddie nods. "We'll both die."

 

*

 

Eddie and his mother, Richie decides, are something else entirely. 

Sitting down for dinner with the pair is an awkward affair to begin with, which only gets more tense as the night goes on. Firstly, it's Sonia asking Richie where he gets his accent, and then going on a twenty-minute long rant about the dangers of the sun and salt-water and how messy sand can be. She then proceeds to ask Richie if he is vegan, and before he can even answer she goes on an even longer rant about West-coast hipsters doing all kinds of crazy fad diets that  _really aren't healthy dear! A growing boy needs his meat_. 

Richie isn't a vegan, but he's not sure Sonia Kaspbrak really knows what she's talking about. 

Through it all Eddie slumps uncomfortably in his chair, occasionally nodding apathetically to something his mother asks him, but otherwise not really engaging in anything she's saying. 

After Sonia's ranting about fad diets dies down, she slaps a large bowl of salad down in front of Eddie with what looks like a salmon-fillet with a shrill cry of  _got to keep in shape, dear!_ Before turning to Richie and telling him she'd made a chilli con carne for herself and that there's plenty left-over for him. Richie opens his mouth to ask why they're eating differently to Eddie, but Eddie kicks him under the table, shaking his head in warning, so Richie just nods and accepts the bowl with a wide fake smile. 

They're in the middle of dinner when Sonia asks Richie what it is his parents do.

"Well, I live with just my mom, who is a nurse, but my dad is a dentist." He says between bites - the food is nice, if a little bland, his mother's is definitely better, but he's not going to say that.

Sonia scowls. "I don't trust medical professionals." She says gruffly, shaking her head. "We've had loads of problems with them in the past, haven't we Eddie-bear?"

Eddie visibly winces. "Mom, plea-"

"We had to change doctors three times!" Sonia wails. "My Eddie is fragile you see, he's always getting sick and these  _doctors_ -" She spits, "were always useless."

"Uh." Richie gapes, shocked by the turn in conversation. "I think-"

"Don't interrupt, it's rude!" Sonia admonishes, and Richie closes his mouth with a click. Feeling a mix of anger and astonishment bubble up in his chest.  _Who in the holy living Hell doe this lady think she is?_ "Anyway, nurses are just as bad, they're so condescending! Always talking to me like I'm stupid - just because they went to university and got a degree doesn't mean they know more about medicine than I do!"

Next to him, Eddie drops his fork with a clang, pushing his bowl away roughly. Sonia's attention is drawn to the noise, and she immediately looks concerned. "Eddie why aren't you finishing your food? Are you sick?"

Eddie huffs. "No, Ma-"

"This is what happens when you stay out all night Eddie! I'm not there to make sure you're okay and then you get sick, or worse!" Sonia cries. Richie's eyes widen as she stands, her chair nearly toppling with the force of which she pushes it back. Before he knows it, she's rounded a table and slapped a pudgy hand onto Eddie's forehead. Eddie splutters, trying to lean out of her touch, but she only leans further forward, crowding over him and baying like a distressed floral walrus.

"I'm not sick!" He tries to object, but Sonia acts like he hasn't even said anything. 

"And whose clothes are these?!" She tuts, tugging at Richie's shirt harshly. Eddie pushes her hand away. "Eddie, you know how many germs there are on clothing! You really shouldn't-"

Richie zones their argument out, feeling wildly uncomfortable sitting there as the two squabble. Eddie had mentioned how protective his mother was before, but Richie had just assumed it would be a typical case of _white mom thinks her son deserves the world_ -itis, not whatever the _Hell_ is going on here. Sonia's face is red again, as is Eddie's, his eyes blazing as he continues to bat at his mother's fretting hands. Suddenly, Eddie is standing up, and the shouting is really going strong now. Richie decides now would be the best time to make his hasty retreat. "I think I'm gonna go." He interrupts them, shuffling his chair back. There's a lull in the shouting as both sets of brown eyes turn to Richie. 

"No, Richie, you-"

"Oh! Yes, dear, you run along now!" 

"Mom!"

"Edward do not shout at your mother!"

Richie swallows nervously, waving to Eddie - who barely notices him now that his mother is flapping her arms about furiously and screaming something about respecting the woman who birthed him. She honestly looks like she's about to cry, and Eddie looks genuinely terrified that she might, his arguments turning into placating gestures and soothing tones. Sonia is sniffling loudly, her voice breaking as she babbles away and Richie wants to be far far away when the waterworks start. 

"Um. So, bye." He says, rushing to the front door just as begins screaming, _again_.

"Why won't you just be good for  _once_ Eddie?!"

Richie feels deeply sorry for Eddie in that moment, remembering all of the times Eddie told Richie his mom was cool, and all of the times he grimaced whenever Richie asked him something about his. _Sonia Kaspbrak is crazy_ , Richie decides, hopping into his car,  _100% certifiably insane._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep fucking forgetting about Richie's glasses and then I have to go back and rewrite any scene where it should be mentioned whether or not he's wearing them. god dammit.
> 
> also, i am british and my american political opinions literally dont matter so dont @ me but ur president is a nonce (then again, my pm is a rat lady and brexit is killing our economy so hey ho let's all march into hell together!)
> 
> song richie sings: Wild Moan by Bootstraps
> 
> *you are my cute little bean  
> **i hate you
> 
> next chapter will be an eddie pov chapter. i've decided i'll incorporate 2 or 3 in just to help the plot along a bit.


	5. Baby, Is He Good To You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world through Eddie's eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first installment of what i like to call "alternatively; eddie" in my notes, there will be another later in the story, but for now, here's a few moments from this story through eddie's perspective 
> 
> chap title from Bruce Springsteen's I'm On Fire
> 
> also i just wanna add a warning for a little bit of child abuse in this chapter. also a lot of religious themes and homophobia (use of homophobic slurs) as well as slut shaming. i'd like to preface this by saying that i am not anti-religious but that the bad side of religion will rear its ugly head in this story, so at times it may seem like i am condemning religion. my representation of christians in this story is not what a good christian should be but, unfortunately, it is what some christians are actually like.

Despite what many may think, fitting in didn't come easy to Eddie Kaspbrak. As a kid he was better at dance and gymnastics than he was at football and basketball, and that made him the target of many bullies and rumours. Even before he knew what the word meant, he was being called a 'homo' in the halls and had other boys running away from him as if he had something they could 'catch'. This, of course, wasn't helped at home with his mother's constant worrying and over-protectiveness; not a day went by where she wasn't shoving pills down his throat and making up some new disease that Eddie  _must_ have because he sneezed twice in a row. 

The day Eddie realised the medications she had him on were all fake was both the best and worst day of his life, so to say; the worst because he realised that his whole childhood was wasted on sugar pills and missed field trips, birthday parties he couldn't attend because he was 'too sick' and clothes he never got to wear because they'd flare up his imaginary eczema. He remembered crying for hours on Chris' shoulder that day, ranting about all of the ways his mother had ruined his life, and then once he'd finally calmed down enough to take a breath, Chris had said something that completely changed his perspective. 

_"But at least now your future can be your own."_

And _oh_ , was it going to be alright.

As soon as Eddie entered freshman year, he was signing up to every extra-curricular activity he could squeeze into his timetable. Track, Chess, Birdwatching, World History, and Cheerleading. 

He'd dropped out of track pretty quick, his short legs not much help in that department - not to mention the phantom asthma he was (at the time) still trying to get over - and, after a couple short months, Birdwatching had slowly gotten so mind-numbingly boring that not even Stan's presence could help it. Chess was a dud too, because he didn't like how the people in the club looked at him like he was an idiot just because he hadn't been playing since he was five - or something. The other two, though, the other two had been a success. 

Firstly, World History is where Eddie Kaspbrak met Ben Hanscom, and he may have not stayed in that club for very long either, but their friendship easily transcended the realms of after-school meetings in the library with the other history dorks into lunches, group projects, movie trips, and eventually a full-blown friendship. It helped that Ben got on so well with his other friends, and with Ben being the new kid, it was easy to fit him into their group. 

Secondly,  _Cheerleading._

Eddie didn't think he'd be good at it; all of the boy's he'd seen on the squad were tall and muscular enough to hold up all of the girls, they were at the bottom of the pyramid, all tense muscles and lean backs and Eddie? Eddie wasn't. Eddie was small, muscled but not overly so, and even shorter than most of the girls on the squad who all somehow resembled supermodels. Eddie was better suited for the fancy tricks than the heavy lifting and, luckily for him, the captain at the time had seen Eddie's tryout performance and known. She'd smiled at him when she posted the team list a week later and that had been that - Eddie learned that he didn't need to be like the other boys, because boys can be on top of the pyramid too. 

His popularity had skyrocketed after that, and even more-so a year later when Chris made the football team, and they became Derry High's 'It' Couple. 

He made new friends- the Gretas who act like they're sisters with their rivalries but hardcore protectiveness of each other. Darla, a sweet girl with wild natural curls that she braids during game season, twisting ribbons that match her uniform and beads for good luck into the strands before tying it all back with a gigantic scrunchie. There's Audra, their captain, who dyes her naturally red hair black and denies it, even though they've all known each other since kindergarten and  _everyone knows._ He met Mike through Chris, who he knows used to be home schooled before transferring in middle-school. 

You could say he's pretty lucky, to be where he is, all things considered - but luck has nothing to do with it. Eddie did it on his own, despite his mother's constant wailing and his own self-conscious setbacks, he did it all anyway.

And he's damn proud. 

Well, sort of.

"Your boyfriend bet me I couldn't convince you to come to the rager on Saturday." Eddie slams his locker shut, fixing Stan with as much of a glare he can muster when he really just wants to roll his eyes. 

"And you took that bet? Come on Stan, you know I hate parties and besides my-"

"Your mom won't like you staying out late, yes, but listen-" Eddie groans and begins walking, holding his Algebra book to his chest like a shield against whatever diatribe Stan is about to throw at him to convince him to go to the stupid party everyone has been talking about for the past week or so. "- you can say you're studying at mine and that you're staying over because you don't want to walk home late in the dark."

Eddie grunts non-commitally, and Stan sighs. "C'mon, Eddie, I really can't afford to give your boyfriend twenty bucks and if I can't convince you then-"

"Twenty bucks?" Eddie halts, pressing his arm into Stan's chest to stop him from walking too. He raises his eyebrow skeptically, taking in Stan's apprehensive face, and shakes his head. "Okay, no, what else?"

Stan goes red, "um, what do you mean?"

"Um..." Eddie mocks, "Stanley. Stan. I know you better than anybody else and I know for a  _fact_ that you don't care about parties, and that you _definitely_ do not care about a dumb bet you made with my boyfriend."

"I do care." Stan mumbles, but Eddie waves him away. 

"So what else is it?" He asks. "Why is it oh so important to you that I attend this party-"

"Rager."

"-and why are you trying to hide it."

Stan crosses his arms, and Eddie smirks, leaning back against whoever's locker they've stopped by and making a  _come-on_ gesture with his free hand. Eddie knows what the answer's going to be already, Stan is an open book by design, abhorrent of secrets of any kind - no matter how bad they may be - and there's only one topic that can make Stan break that rule of his because, if there's one thing Stan hates more than lies, it's crushes. Eddie just likes to torture him. Their staring match continues for a few moments before Stan relents with a deliberately bored sounding sigh. 

"I overheard Bev Marsh talking to Bill-" Eddie smirks, Stan ignores him, finishing his sentence in a breathless rush like it physically pains him to admit it. "and that new kid about it and they both said they'd be there."

"Aw." Eddie croons. "Stanley you're blushing!"

"Shut up." Stan grumbles. Eddie cackles delightedly. 

"You know, I think I will go. If only to watch you stare at Denbrough from the farthest corner away from him for the entire night."

"You know, I actually don't want you to come anymore." Stan deadpans, scowling lightly. 

"Too late." Eddie singsongs. The warning bell interrupts anything Stan might have said, and Eddie takes it as an opportunity to make his escape before Stan can eviscerate him with his glares. 

 

 *

 

The  _Rager_ , predictably, is exactly the opposite of anywhere Eddie would choose to be on a Friday night. He'd much rather be at home, coming up with routines while listening to his own -  _good, if he does say so himself_ \- music, and not standing in a freezing cold clearing, wishing he'd worn a heavier jacket, and listening to a drunken Chris ramble on about some football move he's trying to perfect. Chris is well on his way to drunk, and Eddie lost Stan some time ago to the crowd,  _the little shit_. 

Ben had disappeared too, mumbling something about finding a bathroom (as if there even were any this far out at the Quarry), but Eddie had just rolled his eyes at the obvious lie and let him go. 

Chris seems to have realised that Eddie isn't really listening, because he presses his thumb into the crook of Eddie's elbow to get his attention before nodding down to the empty cup Eddie had been holding since he finished his first drink when he first got there. "Do you want another one?" He asks, already veering off towards the drinks table. 

Eddie's eyes widen, grabbing Chris by the back of his letterman jacket - that definitely needs to be washed since Eddie doubts he's let his mom touch it since he first put it on two weeks ago - and pulling him back and away from the overflowing 'bar'. "Nope." Eddie says, "no more, you're trashed, and I'm not dragging your ass home again. How about we go dance?"

Chris pouts, but Eddie pouts better, and he's soon getting his way, pulling Chris to the dance floor by the hand smugly. They're dancing to a song Eddie doesn't recognise when he spots Stan shuffling his way through the crowd. Their eyes meet and Eddie smirks as he trails his gaze pointedly to the corner he'd seen Denbrough standing in about a half-hour ago. Sure enough, the quiet boy is still there, staring down at his phone with a quizzical little tilt to his brow as the lanky looking boy next to him chugs at his cup. Stan's gaze follows his own and, when Eddie looks back, he's got an expression on his face that Eddie considers Stan's form of blushing - something between stony, scared, and like he just ate something exceptionally sour. 

Eddie laughs to himself, just as Chris decides to pull him even closer. "What are you laughing at?" He asks, and Eddie chuckles as he stands on his tippy-toes to peer over Chris shoulder. Stan is looking anywhere except at him - his gaze mostly flicking from Bill's dark corner to the bonfire a few feet away where the stoners are sitting. 

"Oh, nothing." Eddie sighs, "Just Stanley's insane crush on Denbrough..."

"He's still into that guy? Isn't he a little emo for Stan's tastes?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Bill's nice, Chris, just quiet."

Chris hums. "Yeah, I guess. I'm going for another drink." This time, Eddie doesn't bother trying to stop him, knowing it'll just end in an argument. Instead, he ambles over to Stan who scowls at him harder and harder with every step he takes until Eddie is right next to him and Stan is outright glaring.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Stan greets him with, and Eddie chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. 

"Wasn't going to, just wondering how the  _bird watching_ is going?"

Eddie really is lucky Stan is a pacifist, or he's pretty sure he would've been toast by now. Eddie laughs at the half-pained, half-amused expression on Stan's face before glancing over to the drinks table where he'd left Chris. "Jesus... can't even go two fucking minutes." He mumbles. Stan's eyes follow his before he's raising his eyebrows.

"He's really drunk, huh?" 

Eddie nods. "I should go and get him home before he punches that guy in the face."

 

*

 

Eddie has never been so cold in his life. The cold in his bones and soaking into his skin takes up the larger part of his thoughts until there's no room for any anger, fear or even hurt. He just feels cold. 

He's vaguely aware of someone talking to him, sitting him down on the shore of the Quarry as warm hands grip onto his shoulders, but all he can do is stare and shake. He feels himself shaking, feels his teeth chattering, but his eyes continue to linger, unblinking, on the guy before him. 

_He's gorgeous._

Even in the darkness, with his hair plastered to his face from the freezing water, Eddie can still see how beautiful this boy in front of him is. He feels a wight land on his shoulders, and another voice joins the first but Eddie can't look away from the guy in front of him. This gorgeous being that saved his life - or is this the afterlife? And this man is the angel sent to greet him at the gates. 

"-alright? Eddie?"

Eddie wants to nod but he can't, he's too cold, his body feels like it's frozen in place. All he can do is think.

_I can hear you. I'm so cold. Thank you, thank you. Please don't leave me in the cold._

 

*

 

Eddie learns the boy's name is Richie Tozier. Richie wears crazy print sweaters under leather jackets and jeans that are ripped all to fuck. He wears muddy converse and has the dorkiest Ralphie Parker glasses when he forgets to wear his contacts. His hair, when it's not plastered to his face with freezing cold quarry water or tied up into a bun is long and curly and Eddie wants more than anything to run his hands through it, see if it feels as soft as it looks. 

Eddie wants to do a lot of things. 

But, mainly, Eddie wants to know who Richie Tozier  _is_.

He know's he's from California, he knows he sits with Bev Marsh and Bill Denbrough at lunch and he knows the guy shares several classes with him, including study hall. He wants to know what kind of ice-cream Richie likes, what music he listens to when nobody is around, if he prefers beer or wine and whether or not his socks match (he's willing to bet they don't). He wants to know what he smells like when the overpowering smell of Quarry-water isn't clogging his nose, and he wants to hear his voice when his teeth aren't chattering and his ears aren't ringing. 

For the first time since Eddie found Cheerleading, Eddie feels like he's found something worth-while again. 

He just needs to be  _sure._

They're talking in the Butterfly Garden, sitting under the waterfall on Eddie's favourite carved bench about their likes and dislikes. Eddie feels a little sad when Richie brushes off saving his life like he doesn't deserve the recognition, like it was nothing, because it wasn't nothing- not to Eddie - and while it may have been something 'anyone would have done', it was something  _Richie_ did. And that's important. 

So they talk, and as they talk Eddie finds himself staring once again at Richie's face - the way his wide mouth curves around every word like each one deserves their own smile, the way he laughs easily when anything is even the remotest bit funny, and the way he watches Eddie right back. He does all of this, and all Eddie can think about are the butterflies and that stupid quote from that one movie - that when a butterfly flaps its wings in New Mexico, it has the power to cause a hurricane in China. Eddie figures Richie is sort of like that - he's Eddie's butterfly. 

Eddie has always been careful, always been pressed by his mother and the town to present the perfect image, always felt like it was his  _job_ to change the way people like him are viewed - or _were_ viewed, before Adrian happened - in a town like Derry. He's always been sure to follow the rules, pander to the expectations of everyone around him so they have no reason to hate, to go back to the way things were. With Richie, he feels that weight lifting. 

He feels like Richie might be something special, like, because they've met, something somewhere in the world is shifting to accommodate the force of what's to come of it.  

Because Richie flapped his wings, and now there's a hurricane tearing through Eddie's carefully constructed world. 

 

*

 

When Richie leaves the day after Eddie first slept in his bed, his mother immediately begins a tirade of abuse against him - that he's made Eddie sick, that he's not the _right sort_ (as if Eddie himself would be considered the  _right sort_ if he didn't put every ounce of his being into pretending to be something he's not). Eddie only half listens to her shouting, ignoring the way her nails dig into the tender flesh of his shoulder, right where the collar of Richie's shirt has fallen down to expose his collarbones. She starts crying when he doesn't respond to her taunts, and this is where Eddie's insides really start to twist. 

Thirteen year old Eddie would've done anything his mother asked to stop the fat tears from rolling down her face, collecting in the lines around her mouth and her double chins. He would've fallen all over himself to make her happy but eighteen year old Eddie doesn't particularly care about that, he just wants her to stop. 

It's not that he wants his mom to be sad, quite the opposite, he's just learned over the years that making Sonia Kaspbrak happy equates to making himself miserable. 

"Mom..." He tries soothing her, listening to the sound of Richie's car driving away. A part of him wishes Richie would've stayed, another wishes he'd taken him with him, and the last part of him wishes he'd never come in the first place and seen what Eddie's life is really like. Sonia turns away from him, her wails getting louder and louder as she brings her chubby hands up to cover her eyes. Eddie breathes for a second, tamping down the urge to just scream back at her and see how she likes it. She'd probably have him sectioned if he did that. "Mom please stop crying, I'm not sick, I'm perfectly fine."

Sonia's sobs cut off suddenly and she whirls around, Eddie stumbling a little with the force of her suddenly angry gaze.  _Oh, here we go._ "This is that boy's fault isn't it?!" She growls. "He's the one turning you into this... this delinquent!"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, first, he's called Richie, and second, he's literally only been here like two months so he couldn't have possi-"

"Oh!" She cries, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, raising her eyes to the heavens. Eddie grimaces, the sour taste in his mouth that had been there since she started ranting at dinner making it hard to swallow. "What has he done to you?! My baby, lying, staying out all night, disobeying your mother!"

"Mom, really, I-"

"He's corrupted you! What else has he done, Eddie? Has he touched you?! Have you let him touch you?!" Sonia hisses, and Eddie feels every argument die. He feels sick all of a sudden - he can handle it when his mother is spewing bullshit, when she's ranting out of her ass and Eddie can ignore her. When she's right, though? When she's right, or even just close to being right, it's hard to block out that little voice from his childhood that tells him he should listen to her, do what mommy says and be a good boy. When she's right, he feels himself wilting. 

He begins to sweat, and Sonia Kaspbrak notices. Eddie doesn't see the slap coming, the sound of her hand hitting his cheek ringing in his ears as he begins to cry silently. Sonia's hand flies to her mouth, and for a moment Eddie think's the distraught in her eyes is because of what she's done, but then she's grabbing at him, and opening her mouth and Eddie feels himself sinking.  _His mother just hit him._

"What has he done? How far have you let him corrupt you?" She demands, shaking him. "Are you still pure, Eddie?"

Eddie chokes on his words, still too numb from being hit to really feel the embarrassment of what she's asking him. "Y-yes!" He stutters. "Mamma, please!"

Sonia releases him, sighing in relief as she brings her palms together in front of her lips. Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest protectively, his tears cool on his stinging cheek. When Sonia looks at him again, she looks calmer, less likely to snap, but Eddie can tell she's still worked up. Her hair is wild, a single curler clinging to a lock at the back of her head and her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. Eddie feels like he probably looks no better at this point. 

"I never want to see him again, Edward, do you hear me?" She seethes. "Christopher is a good boy, a Godly boy, and I will not have a son of mine gallivanting off being a... a faggot and a slut!" Eddie flinches at that, and suddenly he's fifteen again, standing in a rainy graveyard and listening to his mother gossiping quietly with one of her church friends. 

> _He deserved it if you ask me... a faggot and a slut... this is God's punishment._

"Don't say that, mamma." He whispers, hating how small his voice sounds. He can feel tears blocking his throat at the harsh memories, can feel panic forming in his chest. "Please don't say that."

Sonia coos at him, wrapping her arms around him and crushing him to her chest. She's shorter than him, but Eddie feels about two feet tall in the wake of her venomous words. "Sweetie, I'm just saying what everyone else would say! You don't want to end up like that other boy, do you Eddie-bear?"

 _Adrian._   _His name was Adrian._

_Why can't anyone else seem to remember that?_

"I just want what's best for you... and that  _ruffian_ is the wrong sort for my little Eddie-bear." She pulls him tighter, and Eddie can't find the words to object. "Just look what he's made you do! He's turned you into an adulterer." Eddie feels himself sob, but he can barely hear himself over his mother's words ringing in his head. He wants to disagree, tell her she's wrong - but she isn't. He is a cheater, and a liar, and it's  _wrong._ "Hush, baby, it isn't your fault. God sends us temptations every day, and now you know to avoid him."

Eddie's tears continue to fall as his mother begins to pray.  

 

*

 

Wen Eddie finally makes it upstairs, he immediately goes to the bathroom to throw up. The sounds of his mother's prayers ringing in his head to the backdrop of Richie's smiling face. 

He feels dizzy thinking about it, like the hurricane has finally reached him and is wreaking havoc in his mind - his vision swirling as he flies out of control. He's losing control, his world is in shambles. 

And he's going to do absolutely nothing to stop it.

_It's too late, mother, it's already done._

 

_*_

 

Stan is probably Eddie's best friend. He's not his oldest friend - not like Chris is - and he'd never tell Chris that he isn't his best, but Eddie truly feels like Stan understands him better than anyone else in the world.

Stan understands what it's like to have to mould yourself into this idea of 'Derry perfectness' in order to fit in; as one of the only Jewish families in Derry, and the only Jewish kid in their school, Stan has always striven for the same image that Eddie has; clean, nice, and penitent. Chris, on the other hand, is the son of the most respected man in Derry - the priest - and, because of this, his sins are forgiven with little fanfare. It's not fair and, over the last few years, Eddie has built up more than enough resentment over it. Resentment over how easy it is for Chris to just  _be_ while people like Eddie and Stan have to walk on eggshells. 

That's why Eddie prefers Stan, because Chris never got it when Eddie mentioned it - never even tried to - but Stan and he didn't even need to talk to communicate with one another. Stan gets it all on his own. 

Some would argue it's a little strange, the son of the Rabbi and the son of the Priest in the same social circle - and they'd be right. Stan and Chris definitely would not be friends if it wasn't for Eddie. Stan hates Chris more than he hates liars because something Stan hates more than liars and crushes  _combined_ are hypocrites. 

An it's all a little hypocritical, the way Derry treats and alienates the people who don't fit the mould. The subtle way they marginalise people, with smiles and false pity. Chris doesn't fit the mould, being anything but straight is not part of Derry's mould - unless, of course, you're not visibly queer. Chris can press himself into the mould because, for all intents and purposes, he's a straight man in Derry resident's eyes. It's like their eyes just glaze straight over Eddie when they pass the couple in the street.

Chris is big, muscled, his cuticles are overgrown and he's not afraid to break a bone. He doesn't wear enough layers in the winter, and he spreads his legs wide when he sits down on the bus. He's a man, no doubt about it. Derry can see it and it's like they see Eddie's feminine physique, short stature, and soft small hands clasped in Chris' and think  _hey, close enough_. They gladly overlook the only  _gay_ part about Chris if it means they get to keep their fancy ideas of the perfect Priest's son. It was the same with Don.

And Chris is perfectly fine with letting them think that. 

But then their eyes do find Eddie and they see a boy who looks like a girl, wears girls' colours and uses girls' shampoo, and they see _wrong._ They aren't willing to overlook the fact that it was Eddie who fixed Chris' car when it broke down last summer, and it's Eddie who got a score of 100 on his theology essay in ninth grade because he knows the bible inside and out. They aren't willing to overlook Stan's manliness, or his good morals. 

The simple fact of the matter is, Eddie isn't the  _right sort_ of gay, and Stan isn't the  _right sort_ of religious man.

So it's not really a surprise when Stan is the first to notice Eddie acting out. He sees the mould for what it is, so he sees it also when Eddie's shape shifts further away from it, rather than trying to squeeze in, like he used to do. He see's it, and he doesn't like it. 

He first brought it up on Thursday, the day Eddie went to the bar to watch Richie sing - and not because Chris asked him to go like he pretended. He'd glared at Eddie until Eddie had told him the truth, and Eddie felt it when Stan called him a hypocrite. Eddie had realised in that moment that, in trying to break away from the restrictive role he'd been playing, he'd unintentionally become everything his best friend hated most in the world. He'd given in to his crush, he'd lied to do it, and he'd become a hypocrite. 

He felt it in the look Stan gave him when Richie came through the door to the bathrooms, he'd felt it when he'd gone back over to Richie's house that night - lying again - to beg for Richie's forgiveness. He'd felt it at school on Monday, and again later that night when he'd gone home once more with Richie.

He'd rested his head on Richie's chest as the other boy had slept, his body shifting underneath Eddie's with every deep breath. His hand resting heavily on Eddie's lower back where he'd been rubbing circles until the pull of slumber had dragged him in, and Eddie felt it when he turned his head, pressed a kiss to Richie's bare chest, and closed his eyes, following him down. 

He felt it the next day too, after school, lying on Chris' bed with papers strewn around him. They'd been doing homework for a few hours now, and Eddie had had to scribble out the word a few times as his brain had wondered while his pen kept writing.  _Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite._

He sighs and puts his pen down, picking up his phone instead. Chris shuffles at the desk, half-turned away from Eddie, and Eddie reasons he's far enough away that he couldn't read his phone even if he tried. 

He pulls up his messages with Stan, greeted by a slew of blue text bubbles from Saturday through Monday left opened but unanswered. 

 

**To: Stanley <3**

**are you still mad at me?**

 

He doesn't expect an answer, so he places his phone down back on the bed and picks up his pen once more, crossing out whatever he'd written last and re-writing it. A few moments later, he's surprised by the little  _ding_ that signals an incoming text. Over on the desk, Chris jumps, his eyes flicking to Eddie before migrating back down to whatever he's working on. 

"Who's texting you?"

Eddie checks his phone and, sure enough, "Stanley."

"Oh." Chris hums. 

 

**From: Stanley <3**

**Yes.**

 

Eddie frowns, a little downtrodden, but before he can begin begging for Stan's forgiveness, he receives another text. 

 

**From: Stanley <3**

**But I understand.**

 

Eddie feels a little thrill go through him, quickly typing out a response. 

 

**To: Stanley <3**

**you do???**

 

**From: Stanley <3**

**I guess. Do you like him?**

 

**To: Stanley <3**

**yea**

 

There's a pause, and Eddie bites his lip. He's underselling it a little bit, he  _really_ likes Richie, but he knows Stan wouldn't appreciate a monologue so he keeps it to himself. He can hear Chris shifting over by the desk, papers rustling. His phone _pings_ again. 

 

**From: Stanley <3**

**Okay, then you need to break it off with Chris.**

 

Eddie frowns, resisting the urge to groan. 

 

**To: Stanley <3**

**i knowwww**

 

**From Stanley <3**

**I mean it, Eddie. Chris is an ass but he**

**doesn't deserve this any more than you did.**

 

Eddie bites his lip, trying to figure out how to word a response to that that doesn't sound whiny or like it's filled with excuses - Stan hates excuses - but before he can, Chris lets out a loud yawn from over by the desk and slams his book closed, swiveling in his chair to face Eddie. "Babe, I'm so bored, let's take a break."

Eddie locks his phone, picking up his pen and scribbling a few more nonsensical words onto his page, trying to look busy. "If we take a break now, you know you won't finish later."

Chris groans again, pulling himself off his chair and falling face first onto the bed next to Eddie. He lands on a book Eddie wasn't really using, but he feels annoyed anyway as Chris carelessly pulls it out from under him and flings it onto the floor. "Oh, c'mon, it's not like you're really working, you've been texting with Stan for the past ten minutes." He smirks, shuffling over and wrapping an arm around Eddie's waist, pulling him in. "I know something better we could  _both_ be doing."

 _Not this again_. Eddie feels sick all of a sudden but hides it with a strained laugh as he removes Chris' arm from his waist. "No, Chris."

Chris pouts, Eddie hears his phone go off again but doesn't even try to check it. Chris raises his eyebrows, taking this almost as an invitation, and suddenly Eddie feels a hand tracing up the back of his thigh. Eddie shivers as the hand reaches his ass, and Chris grins in triumph before bringing their mouths together in a heated kiss. He places his other hand on Eddie's hip, rolling him over before moving to straddle one of Eddie's legs, his knee firmly pressed up against Eddie's groin.

The sick feeling doesn't go away as Eddie allows Chris to kiss him, and it gets stronger when Eddie realises that he doesn't feel this way when he's kissing Richie. He feels a little dizzy at the realisation, so dizzy that he doesn't notice when Chris starts grinding softly against his leg, his half-hard erection pressing insistently into Eddie's hip and his kiss becoming sloppier as he moans into it. Eddie barely feels it, too lost in his own head and the realisation that it no longer feels like he's cheating on Chris. 

_It feels like he's cheating on Richie._

Eddie snaps out of his thoughts when one of Chris hands shifts Eddie's legs until he's between them, and then Eddie feels something similar to what he felt when he fell into the Quarry. Cold, confused, and most importantly, like Richie is all he can see. 

"Stop." He mumbles, turning his head away from Chris. Chris just begins kissing bruises down his neck so Eddie repeats himself, a little louder, his words punctuated by a small shove. Chris gets the message, pulling back with a groan that's more of a frustrated sigh and falling down into the bed beside Eddie. 

"Eddie, come on, we've been dating for years, when are we gonna do it, huh?"

Eddie huffs, sitting up onto his knees so no part of his body is touching his boyfriend's. Chris looks perplexed at this, clearly frustrated with Eddie's behaviour.  _Yeah? Well me too buddy._ "Is that all you want? Sex?"

Chris' mouth falls open in clear offense, his eyebrows furrowed. "Obviously fucking not or I wouldn't still be here would I?"

"You're only here because I fucking let you stay." Eddie counters. He feels a surge of hurt at his own words, the harsh reminder of _that_ time. 

Chris, however, apparently feels no remorse. "Oh, not this shit again - it's ancient history Eddie!" Eddie growls, throwing himself off the bed and collecting his things, shoving them into his backpack. Chris huffs. "Babe." Eddie ignores him, casting about to find his shoes and trying hard not to let any frustrated tears slip down his cheeks. He hears movement behind him and figures Chris must've stood up too. "Babe, come on!"

"No!" Eddie whirls around, shoving Chris hard in the chest. He barely moves and Eddie just feels all the more angry for it. "Do not tell me to get over this, Chris."

"It's been three years! Everyone else is over it - it's just you, holding this over my head for no fucking reason."

"'No fucking reason'?" Eddie seethes. Shoving the one converse he's found onto his foot without bothering to do up the laces, he huffs out a single bitter laugh. "You cheated on me, Chris!"

The truth is, Eddie is over that part. He doesn't particularly care anymore because, over time, he began to care less and less about _Chris_ and with that, his ability to care about the rest of their issues disappeared. He's not sad, he didn't lie to Richie. He doesn't want a rebound or revenge, he's just  _so angry_ because Adrian was his friend. Adrian was the one who told him it was okay to feel the way he felt, he was the one who held him while he cried after telling his mother he was gay. He was the one who told him that being gay doesn't make you a sinner or a bad person. 

He was the first person to know when Chris and Eddie went on their first date, and second, and third, and when Chris kissed him for the first time. The only person up until a year ago, when Eddie found out that Adrian had gone straight from holding Eddie - as he cried over his mother's harsh words - to his boyfriend's house, where he'd found his boyfriend's little brother, his friend's boyfriend, _alone_ , and betrayed them all. 

And Eddie didn't even have time to hate Adrian for it - because he never found out until _two years_ after Adrian died. He never figured out how he was supposed to feel. He was caught somewhere between grief, anger, and fear. He loved Adrian because that's all he'd ever known. He hated Chris but stayed with him, because Chris was once his best friend, and he naively believed that he could get over the betrayal the same way he got over it for Adrian.

He did get over it, the hate, but he also got over the love, the trust, everything except the betrayal because what he failed, or refused, to understand is that he _never_ got over it for Adrian, he just pushed it aside because hating him made him feel guilty; so, instead of hating everyone else, he hated himself for still loving everyone who has ever betrayed him. 

Chris tries one last time to pacify Eddie, grabbing onto Eddie's hip as Eddie nearly stumbles trying to put on his second shoe. Eddie pulls away from the touch like he'd been burned. "Eddie, relax, he's dead now anyway."

Eddie freezes, the nausea in the pit of his stomach returning tenfold, replacing all of his anger from the past few minutes.  _Relax._ How could he?  _He's dead now anyway_. Eddie looks at Chris and he sees a stranger, he doesn't see the boy who sobbed into his hands as he confessed, spurred on by a family meal gone wrong just before his brother left Derry for the last time. He doesn't see the boy who had held Eddie whenever Eddie had cried, speaking words of comfort and wisdom. He sees a man, standing in his once best-friend's now boyfriend's clothes, saying things that send chills down Eddie's spine. 

He sees someone who is careless with his words, who will hurt you and then say he  _didn't mean it_. Eddie knows its true, Chris never means it, but he does it anyway.

It's cruel, the way people speak about Adrian now. As if all he is is the dead homosexual of Derry, Maine. He was more than that; he was kind and he was funny, he was also cruel, and deceitful. Death was no light subject, especially not Adrian's death, and especially not to Eddie, and Chris had just completely disregarded that. Trampled all over Adrian's impact like it was nothing - like Adrian dying didn't change literally everything about Derry. Like his actions with Adrian before his death didn't change literally everything about their relationship.

What's worse is that it feels not only like he's disregarding Adrian, but he's disregarding the broken trust Eddie still harbors between them. Like Eddie's trust means nothing to him, because Eddie is just a secondary role in the hierarchy of this sham they call a relationship.  

It leaves Eddie feeling weak.

"You're right." Eddie mutters, his hands clinging to the straps of his backpack, fingertips turning white from how hard his fists are clenching around the fabric. "He's dead. You fucked him, and then he died - maybe I don't wanna follow in his footsteps."

 

*

 

While Eddie is walking home, his untied laces dragging along the rainy sidewalk, he checks his phone and see's one last text from Stan. 

 

**From: Stanley <3**

**You don't need him anymore.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im back lol sorry turns out writing eddie's pov is a lot more difficult for me than richie's   
> e::::specially when i have 3 essays to write, so yah, but im back hi hello next chap will be whenever bc i dont have a schedule fuck that (but it should come out quicker than this one did)
> 
> anyway, i really wanted to portray more of eddie's relationship with chris and why he hasn't broken up with him yet. chris is sort of a fire blanket for eddie, in a way, even though at the same time he's the one burning him.
> 
> tell me what ya think! :)

**Author's Note:**

> the story title (kind of) comes from the song Tell Me by Johnny Jewel ft Saoirse Ronan, the lyrics are:
> 
> whisper that you love me,  
> that you'll never leave me,  
> be mine for always, i'll be yours  
> forever
> 
> pls have a listen bc i feel like this song perfectly encapsulates the tone i wana convey for this story.


End file.
